Mountain and the Sea
by loudmist
Summary: After losing someone close during Valentine's global attack, Ana, a recent recruit of the Statesmen is only out for revenge in the form of Marsha Valentine – the mother. But what she doesn't expect is the European branch of Kingsman to join in on the mission. (Not connected to or cannon of The Golden Circle)
1. The World (Is Going Up In Flames)

_Hello all! Thanks for clicking on this story! Hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing!_

* * *

 **Prologue: The World (Is Going Up in Flames)**

She was taking a jog on the Venice Beach Boardwalk during a day off when it all went to shit.

It took her a few moments to realize that everyone around her had stopped, as though time slowed down. She slowed from her jog to a quick walk as she looked around, worried that some random flash mob was about to happen.

However instead of breaking into a choreographed dance, everyone around her turned on each other – in a most violent fashion.

She faltered in surprise but blinked and was able to duck in time as an old man tried to use a chair from a nearby café to take her down. She ran towards the sand and stopped, blinking at the sight of surfers in skin suits choking eachother with the chords of their surfboards. She turned around, blinking hard, taking a deep breath as she assessed what was going on – and more specifically a way out.

Her eyes flitted around, forming a path, and she sprinted. She ducked a punch here and there. She felt something hard hit her back, but caught herself as she stumbled and continued to sprint down an alley, running out in the middle of the street as she moved away from the beach – the more populated area.

She came onto a main street and stopped just in time as a table flew by her. She continued to run – it seemed the more she stood still the more vulnerable she was. She watched a black SUV swerve on the street and crash into a parked car, the driver stumbling out, immediately overrun by people throwing punches. She jumped onto the hood and climbed to the top, looking around.

It was complete and utter chaos.

She reached for her headphones, the music still blasting in her ears, but then faltered.

There had to be a reason everyone was acting like this - and she wasn't.

She looked around for some sort of clue, even looked up to see if it was some bio-chemical that was dropped, but saw nothing. She then looked down, and faltered when she saw a few cell-phones scattered on the road, all with the same image on the screen: the Valentine logo, orange and blinking.

She kept her music playing, Sleigh Bells almost a too perfect soundtrack for the mayhem going on around her. She turned at the right moment to see someone pull a gun – a surprise in Venice Beach – and aim it right at her.

She dropped to her stomach as they fired, the bullet whizzing over her head as she turned onto her back, reaching into the body holster under her shirt and bringing out her Micro TT-30; it was what she always had on her, no matter what. She heard another shot and cried out as she felt searing pain on the top of her thigh – just barely a scratch, luckily. She swung her arm around at her attacker as she pulled the trigger.

Her body twitched involuntarily as she saw a large spurt of blood erupt from his neck before his body crumpled to the ground. A split second later a man and a woman dove for the gun in his limp hands and then started fighting over it.

She felt the car shaking and turned back onto her stomach to see three women pushing the car she was laying on top of. One of the women gave up and climbed onto the hood, the two others followed; snarling as they climbed up to get to her, their faces bloody and bruised. She jumped to her knees, pointing the gun at them.

They didn't even falter as they scrambled on the windshield to get to her.

"Please!" she shouted over her headphones, but they looked determined.

"Shit," she muttered to herself, flipping a small switch on her gun and pulling the trigger; the shotgun shell taking the three of them down as a frozen cold feeling seeped through her body.

She looked away and scanned the area, grateful no one else was paying attention to her – instead they were intent on destroying each other.

She heard tires screeching on cement and turned to see a car swerving in the street, running over bodies…

She cried out, wanting to look away but she couldn't. And it was good she didn't, since it turned and sped right towards the car she was currently standing on. She got to her feet and jumped up just in time as the car crashed so she didn't lose her balance.

She flipped the switch on her gun again and shot the driver, not paying attention to the face as she looked around, and then immediately closed her eyes; the bodies of men, women, children all dead on the ground - a sob escaped from her throat but she blinked her tears away, staying alert.

What the _fuck_ was going on?

She needed to get out of there - she needed to call this in.

There was no precursor, no sign whatsoever… but all of a sudden, it stopped.

It was as if the world went silent, despite the music still ringing through her headphones. People looked around, dazed. Others started shouting and screaming, finally realizing the destruction and despair around them and what they had committed themselves.

She let out a few deep breaths, her heart beating fast and then picking up in tempo. She brought hand up to her chest, wincing at the feeling.

Something felt… wrong.

She felt a sharp pain in her gut and gasped; not at the pain, but at the recognizable feeling…

She looked around and found what she needed immediately; a sporty looking car meant for speed, a middle aged man (what a cliché) stepping out and looking around confused.

She jumped down to the hood of the car she was standing on and then down to the cement, sprinting towards it, sliding into the driver's seat. She looked around and found a cell phone in a cup holder, tossing it out before she closed the door, ignoring the shouts of the driver as she put it in gear and slammed on the gas pedal.

Their house was thirty minutes away. She needed to be there _now_.

She weaved through stopped cars, honking the horn so idiots loitering in the street had enough time to jump out of the way. She pulled off her headphones off to rest on her neck as she got her phone from her armband, punching in a number and putting it on speaker as she focused on the road.

" _Lincoln, report! Your tracker reads-_ "

"What the hell is going on, Adams?!"

" _This was what we saw in Kentucky._ Valentine's SIM Cards. _That was a test… this is the outcome._ "

She blinked, her mind racing, connecting the dots…

The aftermath of what she had seen at the church… it was exactly the same scene, just now at home. Valentine's free SIM Cards were released internationally... was this happening all over the world?

She made a quick turn onto the freeway, riding the shoulder which was thankfully unblocked.

"How and why did it stop-"

" _The U.K. branch sent out a transmission only minutes before the attack, but it's the SIM cards, that's all we know._ "

"Yeah, I figured as much," she said, spotting the exit and getting off, wincing as she drove over a sidewalk to swerve around more parked cars.

"Is it done? Will it happen again?"

" _Where are you going, Lincoln? Why aren't you-_ "

"Is it done!? Will this happen again?!" she yelled.

" _Lincoln, stand down and return to_ -"

"Is it done? Did they destroy-"

" _We don't know… stay cautious. How did you-_ "

"I was out for a jog, my headphones-"

" _Good, good. Keep them on you._ "

"Find out what the fuck is going on, Adams, I've got-"

" _Mind who you're talking to Linc-_ "

"The fuck I will! Shit just hit the fan – it's worldwide, isn't it?" she shouted, clutching the emergency brake to drift a sharp turn onto a suburban street, unblocked by cars.

The hesitation on the other end of the call led her to confirm it was.

"Christ. The U.K. branch sent the signal, are they on it?"

" _Radio's are down-_ "

"Of course," she said, clutching the brake to make another turn.

" _Shit… shit… satellites are up again. Headphones, Lincoln, now!_ "

"Fuck," she muttered, ending the call and putting on her headphones, resuming play.

She made a final turn, driving over the sidewalk and across a lawn, driving over two more properties before coming to a screeching halt.

She jumped out and ran to the next house where a man and woman were having a brawl on the front lawn.

"No!" she screamed over the music blaring in her ears, raising her gun and shooting the man in the knee. He fell to the ground, writhing. The woman, now without an opponent, turned her raging eyes onto her; the same color as her own.

"No," she gasped.

The woman let out a yell and came at her.

She cursed, switching the safety and tucking the gun into her bra as she brought her hands into fists and got the woman in the gut as soon as she was within reach. The woman dropped to her knees and she jumped behind her, taking their arms and twisting them unnaturally as she got a good grip and backpedaled towards the house.

"It's okay, it's gonna be okay," she whispered to herself. But that's when she saw the stab wounds. The woman's shirt was dripping with blood in various spots.

The woman was still writhing in her grasp, as though the wounds weren't bothering her.

She stopped when she reached the porch and grabbed the nearby hose. She let the woman go and jumped for it, getting it unraveled in time before she was tackled down. She cried out and turned, bringing the hose against the woman's neck and wrapping it around. Even with her neck constrained, she landed a punch all the same. She shook her head from a daze and lurched up, landing on top as she straddled her, wrapping the hose around her arms and finally her legs.

She stood and looked around.

Being such a suburban area, she didn't see much action outside. A couple was brawling across the street and she raised her gun, closing one eye for precise aim as she shot both the man and the woman in their knees, the both of them falling down, ceasing in their killing of each other.

She looked around but didn't see much else. She flet a heavy sense of dread when she realized the killing was probably happening inside the homes…

She looked around the lawn and saw two more cell phones, the same blinking logo on the screens, and used her last bullets to shoot at them.

She kept her headphones on as she looked at the man she had shot. He was on his stomach, crawling towards her, looking so angry… She turned to the woman she'd wrapped in the hose, finding her struggling but failing to escape from the restraints.

She blinked away more tears, staying silent while Sleigh Bells still blasted her eardrums as she moved to the woman, inspecting the wounds.

It wasn't good.

"Oh, god," she said, reaching forward and adding pressure to the one closest to the woman's heart.

They writhed in her touch, never stopping.

"Nat! Stop! You'll bleed out!" she screamed, but the woman kept moving.

Suddenly the music stopped. She brought out her cell, the screen black, not responding when she pushed any home buttons. Dead battery.

Something hit her back and she turned, looking down to see a bloodied knife; the handle had hit her back instead of the blade. She looked up to see the man closer than ever. She only sighed, reaching down to grip the handle tight before throwing it. The blade lodged in his shoulder, stopping his movement towards her.

She turned back and put pressure on the woman's wound again, shaking her head, her tears falling onto the woman's face.

They writhed and shook but then suddenly stopped, but she kept the pressure, shaking her head.

She cried out and flinched when a hand touched her cheek. She blinked and looked down at her mirror reflection looking back up at her; face white of drained blood, her matching blue eyes warm.

She ripped off the headphones and unraveled the hose.

"Thanks, sis," the woman muttered, sounding breathless.

"Stay still." She pushed her down when she tried to sit up, and kept pressure on the wound.

"It's… I can't feel anything..."

" _No_ ," she said, shaking her head, more tears falling as she realized she'd shot the cell phones and her own had no battery. She couldn't call for help.

"Ana."

"NO!" she screamed this time, keeping pressure on the wound.

"I knew you were coming," Nat said as Ana muttered "No, no, no," on repeat, shaking her head, avoiding her eyes.

"Look at me."

She closed her eyes tight, taking a deep breath before opening them to meet her gaze.

"It's okay, sis."

"No, it's not! Don't leave me, Nat, please, not like this," her voice broke and she shook her head.

"Ana?" another voice called. She turned her head to the man, Jeremy, who'd she shot in the knee and also thrown the knife at. He was sitting up, using his good arm to keep upright. "Ana, I didn't… I don't…"

She shook her head and turned back to Nat.

"Nat… stay awake. Just hold on, I can call-"

"They won't get here in time; we both know that."

"Then I'll fucking drive us. C'mon," she said, refusing defeat as she reached around Nat's shoulder to hoist her up, but she shook her head and pushed her away.

"Ana, I'm so sorry," Jeremy man said. She turned her head, glaring, and he stopped, his eyes widening.

"If you know what's good for you you'll shut your trap immediately."

He did as she told, and she turned back to her twin sister.

"Nat, please," she said, the tears now flowing freely, her heart stopping when she saw how her skin was slowly turning white. She'd lost too much blood. She was beyond saving-

She let out a final sob and bent down, resting her head on her shoulder, bringing her arms around her, not caring about the blood. Nat hugged her back just as tight, her body shivering uncontrollably.

She breathed in, shaking her head before pulling back.

"I'm sorry, Nat. I should've gotten here sooner-"

"Never blame yourself, you hear me?"

She shook her head. She squeezed her hands and she turned to look at her in defeat.

"It's a skill of yours, placing all the blame on yourself. Our first car crash, the first time I fell off my bike. Mom and dad-"

"You mean John and Amy," she interrupted, her voice dark. Nat just shook her head.

"For me, Anastasia," she took in a breath, "for me, don't blame yourself for this."

She shook her head.

"I could've-"

" _NO_ ," she said this time with conviction despite her shaky voice, "Promise me."

She shook her head.

She couldn't. She wouldn't…

"It's not you. Whoever's responsible for this… place the blame on _them_ , not yourself, you understand?"

She took in a shaking breath.

"Promise me, sis," she said again.

She nodded.

"Tell me," she whispered, her breath falling short.

"I'm not… I'm not to blame," Ana said, releasing her hands from the stab wound on Nat's heart, using her wrist to wipe away her tears.

"Who is?"

Her hands curled into fists.

"Valentine."

"That's a weird name."

"Please, Nat," she said, letting out a soft laugh combined with a sob.

"Love you, sis," her twin sister whispered faintly before falling limp.

Her heart stopped.

Her world stopped.

She felt as though someone had just cut out half of her soul and destroyed it.

She looked down at her mirror reflection, and froze. Nat's eyes were still open, but lifeless.

Her hand was so shaky it took her a few tries before she was able to reach up and drop her twin sister's eyelids, closing her eyes tight and letting out another sob.

"Ana," Jeremy said shakily; their neighbor, their support after John and Amy had left…

She grabbed her gun before standing up and turning around, aiming it right between his eyes, her hand steady as ever.

He yelled out, using his only good arm to scoot back, the knife still lodged in his other shoulder. She advanced, her aim never waiving.

"Ana, please. You… you saw; you know… it wasn't me. I would never…"

She didn't see Jeremy this time. She only saw the man that had killed her other half.

"Why do you have a knife, Jeremy?" she asked, her voice cool, unshaken.

"I… I…" he stuttered, and stopped, keeping himself upright with his good arm. She stood right above him, the gun inches from his face.

"Ana, please!" he shouted out, though she barely heard it. He only had a few cuts on his face, a nice bruise forming under his eye. Her sister barely had a chance with him… with a fucking _knife_.

"Goodbye, Jeremy," she said, pulling the trigger.

Jeremy let out a scream at the empty click.

She'd depleted her bullets, so she knew what would happen. But pulling the trigger definitely helped.

Realizing he wasn't dead, Jeremey let out a sob and fell onto his back, breathing heavily.

She took another step and bent to a knee right beside him, looking down.

"I meant it when I said goodbye. I never want to see your face again. I never want to hear your name again. I want you gone. Do you understand?"

He nodded his head, and winced, his good arm grasping at the blade still lodged in his shoulder.

"Nope, I'll be taking that," she said, reaching forward and wrenching it out from his skin, ignoring his cry of pain.

It was a butterfly knife. She reached forward, wiping the blood – her twin's blood – off on Jeremy's Hawaiian t-shirt before she dislodged the lock and twisted her wrist, her fingers moving lithely to avoid the blade as she closed it and tucked it into her bra.

"If I ever see you again, you will regret it," she said, turning her back on him.

"Ana-"

She turned and raised her leg, slamming her foot onto the stab wound she'd inflicted. He cried out in pain again.

"I thought I made myself clear, Jeremy. Crawl into your home, wait until I am gone, and then _leave._ And if you think I won't be checking back on you, you've got another thing coming. Do you fucking understand me now?"

"Who… who the hell are you?" he whispered.

She almost laughed at that. If he had asked that question thirty minutes before, even a year before, she would've had a different answer. But now…

She had nothing.

Except - as it would seem now - her job.

She shook her head as she walked to the car, sliding into the drivers seat and revving the engine.

"You don't want to know."


	2. Chapter 1: Hello, Goodbye

_Hi! This is my second Kingsman fic. If you're reading from_ Gone & Found _, welcome back! If you haven't read that story, this is the part where I shamelessly tell you to go read it (and it's a finished story, no waiting for updates!)._

 _Thank you for reading, and please review!_

* * *

 **Hello, Goodbye**

 _Nine months later_

"Eyes on target," he said softly before he took a sip of his martini and walked the edge of the room. His eyes were locked on the elderly dark skinned woman who was currently chatting with someone whose back towards him.

It was a pleasing back, however. Her jet black hair was in a long braid hanging down bare skin that her dress showed, the low cut of the fabric ending just above a well shaped… derriere.

So sue him; but he knew a great body when he saw it. Curvier than his usual taste; an hourglass figure that didn't have such a thin middle, but-

" _Mind out of the gutter, Galahad, we're on a job, mind you._ "

"Hey, can't I enjoy the… bigger things in life?"

" _Oh come on! One tryst with a princess and suddenly you're Casanova? That chauvinistic comment in itself tells me she's not your type. Eyes off her ass, find out who she is and why she's been talking to our target for the past half hour._ "

He sighed, shaking his head at Roxy's antics as he moved further into the room to come around and face the woman in question.

He blinked, and froze.

He wasn't expecting… that.

Her eyes were a bright blue, expressive yet in a fake way as she continued to talk to the target with her hands moving animatedly, surprisingly keeping her drink steady as she did so. Her round cheeks were flushed, whether from heat of a crowded room, the drink, or what else. She had a small button nose, giving her face an overall innocent look; but the dress she wore said something different. It was navy blue, hugging her body. He already saw the drape in the back, and the front covered more skin than showed it, coming up to her shoulders, but it didn't hide the fact that her chest was just as generous as her-

" _For Christ's sake, get your shit together!_ "

He blinked and sighed, reaching up to his glasses to press a small button on the side of the frame, running the facial recognition.

It came up empty.

"Well, that's interestin'."

" _What?_ "

"Don't 'what?' me, you know that facial recog is a no-go. Nothing is coming up… she ain't a civilian."

" _What? Shit… I'll let Merlin know immediately. This can make things… sticky, Galahad. Confirm target. Couldn't hurt to try facial recog on this girl again at a closer angle._ "

He nodded, finishing his Martini and placing it on a nearby empty table. He walked around the room, still facing the curvy woman still so animatedly talking to his perspective target. But suddenly, her eyes met his gaze, and they both stopped.

She frowned at first but then shook her head, turning back to her conversation with the target. However the longer he looked, she kept glancing at him, the corner of her dark red lips curling down.

He looked at their drinks. The curvy girl's glass was still half full, and the target's flute of champagne was untouched. So that struck out him bringing them drinks to start a conversation. His eyes went to the girl's hand. No ring.

He looked up and noticed her head turning away at the last second.

He tilted his head and grinned, it turning into a full fledged smile as she tried another glance and her already pink cheeks turned a darker shade as she turned back to the woman she was talking to.

Then, his luck took a turn.

The target turned her head, finding him in the crowd. She smiled, tilting an eyebrow as she raised her hand, motioning him over.

He raised his eyebrows and just for theatrics looked over both of his shoulders before meeting her gaze again and pointing to himself.

The target nodded, motioning him over again.

He didn't hesitate as he walked over, glancing at the other girl, and saw that she wasn't flustered or embarrassed… but angry.

"Such a handsome man, all alone?" the target said, shaking her head as he approached the high table.

He only grinned and shrugged.

"Had a date… but I lost her," he lied, smiling at both of them. The unknown girl's lips tilted into a small frown as she stared at him, her blue eyes flashing daringly. He winked and grinned as he turned away from her shocked expression, hearing a sight 'hmph' as he reached out his hand to introduce himself to the target; the reason he was there in the first place. The girl next to him was just an added complication.

The facial recognition program still ran on his glasses, confirming his target: Marsha Valentine.

Either with a stroke of luck or with the right publicity team, the public took pity on the mother of the crazed man intent on 'cleansing' the world instead of placing blame.

And three months after the worldwide tragedy, her name started popping up as a prominent buyer and seller in the Black Market, spending countless amounts of money on blacklisted chemical ingredients and hardware, and even hiring blacklisted mechanical and chemical engineers.

And thanks to the two different microchips Valentine had manufactured that were in the Kingsman's possession - the one for those who had the security chip and those that were left to survive - their branch was able to deconstruct and link Marsha Valentine's work was some sort of re-try.

A scorned mother continuing her son's work? Or maybe the mother who taught such crazy ideals to an influential young man in the first place? Maybe it was her plan all along…

Whatever the reason, he was here now; at a jazz bar she frequently visited weekend nights in the bustling city of New York.

But who the hell was this other woman? And why didn't her facial records show up?

"However I consider it a silver linin', comin' upon two such lovely ladies," he added.

Marsha smiled and shook her head.

"Don't try to sweet talk me dear, I'm out of your league," she said.

The unknown girl joined him as he laughed, though hers was more mocking than anything.

"A woman who knows her strengths… however I might be able to convince you to think differently," he said, smiling at Marsha.

Her eyebrow twitched and she smiled at him before glancing at the other woman. But it was enough time for his glasses to scan her face and give the same message as before – her facial recog came up with zero results. Something was off.

"So, how do you two know each other?" he asked, keeping the conversation moving, glancing at the unknown woman again.

She plastered on a smile as she tipped her drink to Marsha.

"Oh, I just had to come and compliment her on her lovely brooch," she said.

Marsha nodded, her hand coming up to touch the pearls and diamonds in the shape of a peacock, pinned on the upper lapel of her dark green pantsuit.

"It's a favorite of mine," she said, darkness covering her gaze before she smiled and shook her head. "And she just had more to say. She's a stylist, isn't that amazing! Dresses up celebrities for the red carpet and everything," Marsha beamed at the unknown woman.

Just to mess with her again, he turned to look at her, her blue eyes still a slight shock, but he felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward involuntarily.

"Well, seeing as how amazing she looks tonight, I might even want to hire her myself," he said softly.

Her blue eyes widened as she looked at Marsha and raised an eyebrow.

Marsha only laughed, shaking her head, sparing a glance between him and the unknown girl. Marsha then turned to the side, looking around his shoulder.

She smiled and he could tell that she faked a glance of recognition.

"Is that Katheryn?" she said aloud, "Oh, I must go say hello," she said, picking up her drink.

"Marsha, no," the girl protested, but Marsha shook her head.

"It'd be a disaster if she knew I was already here and I didn't say hello. I've got your card, dear, toodle-oo!"

He watched as Marsha turned to him, giving a sly smile before picking up her drink and walking away; just the perfect amount of time for him to lithely draw his gun from its holster and turn to the unknown woman, bringing the barrel right against her ribs.

Tough luck was that he felt the same feeling of a gun being pressed against his crotch.

* * *

Who the fuck was he, and what the fuck was he doing here?

The second she met his gaze, she _knew_ he was trouble. And not in the Taylor Swift way, but the 'definitely isn't here for jazz and a cocktail and has same interest in her target' kind of trouble.

Even before they locked gazes she had noticed him, circling the room as though scanning it for exits, possible threats… just as someone in her line of work would do.

And the way he sauntered over after Marsha motioned for him to join them, the way he looked down at her with a grin, giving her a look as though expecting her to swoon under his gaze pissed her off even more.

And now there they were, guns pointed at one another, though with the scared look that flashed in his eyes before he drew his lids to small slits, she knew she had the upper hand.

So weak. Aiming for the ribs? Always aim for the 'pertinent' parts: it's what gets them talking, it's what gets them listening to you.

He looked down at her, their bodies now closer than before; they had guns out, yes, but they were in a public place. To onlookers, they were just a man and woman staring each other down a breath apart.

"Well well well," he whispered.

"We've got a stand-off," she whispered back. She then grinned and adjusted the arm that held the gun against his prized 'assets', "However something tells me I might have the upper hand…" she faded off, hiding a grin as his eyebrows twitched at the movement, his eyes widening for a split second.

"So here's what's gonna happen," she continued softly, sternly, so he could hear her intent, "You're going to walk away and order another Martini at the bar. And then I'll never see you ever again. If I do, well, I've got a friend of mine who's now acquainted with a great," she adjusted her hand again and she watched his Adams apple twitch as he gulped, "friend of yours, so you can imagine what will happen."

He stared down at her unblinking for so long that she almost faltered, but she stayed strong, her eyes slightly burning as she kept them open.

He wasn't going to budge.

Time for another plan.

She reached up onto her tiptoes even though her heels gave her enough height with him and softly breathed into his ear, going the extra mile to give a hard bite at his earlobe; however a surprise it was, she recognized the first look he had given her – attraction.

And she was right, because she felt him shiver.

While he shivered, she lightly brought up her hand under his pinstripe suit jacket and located his second gun, quickly bringing it out of the holster and touching the barrel against his ribs.

He let out a sigh, and she grinned.

"Double the upper hand, oh my," she said, shaking her head.

He only grinned and she felt a small pinpoint of pain on her hip… son of a bitch, he'd pulled a knife on her.

"Don't jump to conclusions, darlin'."

She tilted the gun up still against his chest and under his jacket, but closer to his heart.

"And checkmate."

He only shook his head, and she felt the point of the knife against her hip push in hard; she involuntarily winced and gasped at the hard feeling of the blade sinking into her skin.

"I don't think so, luv" he whispered, "We're both gonna walk to that far hall at my five, where there's a rec room currently unoccupied."

She tilted her head, looking up at his glasses. The details he just provided…

She faltered and gave them a second look. She moved her hand and tucked his gun in the front of his pants and moved to reach up, making sure the intent was clear in her eyes, and got the answer she was looking for. He flinched and shook his head, sinking the knife in her skin a bit more, making her grit her teeth and take in a deep breath through the pain as she quickly grabbed the gun and kept it where it was.

"Nice specks," she muttered in realization, internally smiling as his lips dipped into a frown.

"My five, ya'get me?"

She almost frowned but instead kept a straight face.

"I'm sorry, but who has a gun pointed at whose groin right now, making that _two_ guns?"

He grinned and shook his head, pushing the blade slightly deeper.

Shit, the pain enough told her it was gonna be a large wound, but now… she could only hope stitches weren't needed.

She involuntarily flinched and he smiled, bringing his mouth to her ear this time.

"Once we close that door, it's all or nothin', however you wanna play it. But we walk arm in arm, weapons down."

"I can walk alone without help, thanks. How about I go first?" she continued, "Give me a ten second head start. No weapons once we put them away. Whadya say?" she asked, grinning as she pushed the hand with the gun still against his manhood harder, grinning at his gasp.

When she felt the blade exit her skin, she gave a short nod and drew both hands in, one reaching around her back, putting her own gun into the holster near the edge of her braid, covered by the dress, and lifting her dress a little to put the gun in her own knife holster, turning slightly so he didn't see it.

She felt him right behind her, missing her feet as he followed so close and felt more than heard his whisper, "Second door on the left."

Yeah, she wasn't going into that room.

With the tech in his glasses, she had a feeling he knew the layout of the room they were walking towards, so she was already at a disadvantage.

She looked down the hall, hearing the bustle and hustle of the kitchen at the far end, and a waitress came around the corner, holding a trey of h'orderves. She faltered when she saw them, her eyes moving to her hip, her eyes wide. Shit, was she bleeding into this dress? It was one of her favorites…

She pasted on a wide smile and winked, which had the waitress looking at her, then the man right behind her. She sighed as she felt his arm wrap around her waist, pulling her back to let the waitress by.

His hand moved down to the wound in her hip and used the heel of his hand to press in, making her gasp and writhe in pain.

"Second door-"

She didn't let him finish as she brought her leg up and stomped her heel on his shiny oxfords, snapping her head up to meet with his nose. She wrenched his arm from her and turned around, twisting it awkwardly as she brought her knee up to his stomach. She pulled away as he keeled over to pull out her butterfly blade, flicking her wrist to bring it out, her other hand in a fist.

He looked up at her, his smoothly coiffed hair now in a disarray… and grinned.

It was all so quick. She threw a punch, he blocked it and tried to counter, but she blocked that. She tried to cut his arm; he twisted out of the way. He tried to kick her leg in; she swung it up to kick him across the face, grateful for the stretchy fabric of her once favorite but now ruined dress thanks to the bleeding stab wound.

He kicked her hand and she dropped her butterfly blade. She cried out and snarled, throwing a punch that he ducked but she took the movement to bring up her knee to his face. He stumbled but grabbed onto her hand, moving so he threw her against the wall, moving an arm up to her throat and pushing in.

She choked, feeling her face get red as he stared down at her.

"Aren't ya dirty! Thought we said no weapons."

"Yeah, well, I set the rules, so I can break em'," she said, feeling blood in her mouth. She grinned before she spat out, watching the flecks of blood splatter on his face suit.

"Christ, you're somethin' else," he said, adding more pressure on her throat, making her gasp, her head feeling light, "Too bad I gotta kill you."

She frowned, relaxing her body as though giving up but a second later stomping on his toes with her heel again. He let out a grunt but kept his arm against her neck, and she tried to cough but couldn't even breathe.

"Galahad, stand down!" a voice broke through the haze.

They both turned, and she blanched when she saw a woman with light brown hair in a high bun, wearing a black swing dress, pointing a gun at the two of them.

His pressure on her throat loosened and she gasped in a breath, moving her arm to reach behind to get her gun and bringing a knee up to his groin so he fell back, choking, bending over, and hitting the other side of the hall.

She raised the gun at him, and turned her head to the woman.

She heard a growl and turned just in time to see him charge at her. She ducked and turned as he hit the wall where she stood, adding a kick to his butt just for kicks as she flattened her back against the other side of the hall, re-aiming her gun at him again. This time, he was smart enough to stay still.

"Jesus, Galahad, she's one of us!" the woman said sharply, also in a British accent.

"Huh?" they both let out as his head snapped up to meet her gaze. He raised an eyebrow, looking her up and down as if with new eyes.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" she asked, turning her head and hand to point her gun at the other woman who didn't falter, keeping her arms steady.

She frowned, tightening her hand, her finger coming to the trigger, her other hand coming to the wound at her hip, adding pressure. She felt a little light – she couldn't have lost _that_ much blood…

"You don't… you don't recognize his name?"

"Why the fuck would I recognize some mumbo jumbo like that? Galohoop? Galwho?" she snapped, turning to look at the said person, now leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed, tilting his head and grinning at her.

"Bite me," she growled, turning back to the other woman as he laughed.

The other woman raised an eyebrow, but shook her head, slowly yet surely relaxing her arm but keeping the gun pointed at her.

"But you're…" the other woman faded off, now looking confused.

She rolled her eyes; she didn't have time for this. She fired her gun at the woman, the tranq dart hitting her neck before turning to the man, who now had his gun out, pointed right at her, but he wasn't looking at her. She watched him as he watched the other woman fall to the floor.

He turned and raised an eyebrow at her.

"Tranquilizer?" he asked in a daze.

She shrugged. He didn't even deserve a false excuse – he was just an unexpected problem that she'd taken care of. Business as usual. She aimed and pulled the trigger, the tranq dart hitting his shoulder.

"What the fuck?" he said.

Knowing he wouldn't shoot her now, she frantically searched the ground and found it, rushing forward and picking up the butterfly blade, flicking her wrist to close it up as she tucked it back under her dress.

"What… who…" he said, his voice faltering. She turned and watched as his legs gave out and he fell to the floor.

She raised an eyebrow. She thought her dose was good for one, but he was still awake. She sighed and walked forward, looking down at him.

"If you took my original offer in the first place, you could've saved us all this trouble," she said, raising her gun again.

He shook his head, muttering, and she pulled the trigger, the dart hitting his leg.

"See you never," she finished, shaking her head as she looked around and froze.

There was a cluster of waiters and waitresses at the doorway to the kitchen, all staring wide eyed, their eyes darting back and forth between her and the two unconscious bodies.

She sighed, tucked a few flyaway strands of hair behind her hear, and tugged at the hem of her dress to straighten it out, even though it was beyond repair.

She gave them a nod.

"Have a good night, guys," she said before tucking her gun away and quickly leaving the club through the kitchen, running down the alley and hailing a cab.

* * *

 _Hello, Goodbye by The Beatles_


	3. Chapter 2: Bad Reputation

_How are you all liking summer (or winter, on the other side of the world)? Cause I fucking hate it. I'm sweating everywhere._

 _I need reviews like I need a walk in freezer equipped with a bed and an iPad with music and a hundred books._

* * *

 **Bad Reputation**

When she landed back in Los Angeles she waited until she was at the luggage claim before she brought out her phone.

Staring down at the blank screen, she took a deep breath before turning it on and switching the ringer off as a multitude of missed calls and texts came through.

She barely had a second to read anything before a call came in. She winced when she saw the number but answered it all the same. She had to.

"Adams, hey! How're the kids?" she asked, taking a few steps away from the crowd around the luggage claim.

" _Dammit, Lincoln, I'm single and you know it but that's beside the fucking point. A covert, off record, unmanned and unapproved SOLO MISSION!?"_

"I _told_ you time and again, Marsha Richmond is a threat! Dammit, this is Valentine all over again! You all are too blind to-"

" _Lincoln, you were told to stand down - you disobeyed a direct fucking order!_ "

"I got an _in_! She warmed up to me right away. I'm a stylist; flashy, eh? She got my 'business card.' And with the terrible skirts and pantsuits she wears, god knows she needs it," she muttered.

" _Come to headquarters, Lincoln. You're officially Grounded._ "

She clenched her fist as watched the her suitcase move past her on the luggage claim.

"What?!"

" _You got us all into a load of shit with this stunt you pulled. You're grounded, understood? Report to headquarters ASAP._ "

"Can I at least go back to my place and-"

" _No._ "

"But what about Apo-"

" _A car is already waiting for you outside the terminal. Consequences will be worse if you don't take it."_

* * *

"Fucking hell, Lincoln, seriously?!"

She sighed. It took him long enough.

She knew where to go when the cab dropped her off at headquarters. She was to stay in one of the many rooms left for agents when they were too harried after a mission to go home, or when they were needed on call 24/7 for a mission. Or, for her situation, _fucking grounded_. She felt like a kid with such a word, but it fit; a grounding of an agent meant that they were to stay at headquarters and not partake on any missions in anyway possible. The spy's version of a probation.

This room was to essentially be her prison until she was cleared for missions.

"Adams, hey," she said, crossing her arms over her chest as she grinned at him, "can you give me a minute to change?" she asked, pulling at her oversized white button down shirt which was tucked into her jeans. She still smelled. Like hospitals, the beach, and taco trucks, airports had a distinctive smell that stuck.

His skin shined with a light layer of sweat, small drops falling from his buzzcut brown hair and down his temples.

"Dining room, _now,_ " he said, turning on his heel and walking away. She followed, staying silent as she walked behind him through the hall, then up two floors in the elevator and down another hall until they reached the Dining Room.

A man was already at the head of the table made of metal with a glass surface, sitting in the matching cushioned metal chair. The walls were painted navy blue, with modern lighting on the ceiling and abstract art lining the walls along with portraits of past American Kingsman agents.

She held her hands behind her back and gave a curt nod as she stood at the other end of the table.

"Washington, sir."

He stood up slowly, his olive skinned face showing his crow's feet around his eyes as he squinted at her, a deep frown on his face.

"Lincoln, take a seat."

She sighed and walked towards her chair, the second from Washington's at the head of the table. Adams stood by him, his clip-pad tucked under his arm.

Washington sat down after she was seated – he was old fashioned that way – his body screaming restraint as he crossed his arms and rested his elbows on the table.

"I presume Adams has already informed you of our disdain about your recent actions."

She nodded, putting on a solemn face.

She didn't mind being causal with Adams. He only acted like he detested it, she warmed him up soon enough and he bantered with her anyways. However, with Washington, no one dared to try something of the sort. The man screamed authority and he deserved it. He was an impeccable - if whatnot scary and daunting - superior.

"Yes, sir."

He nodded.

"Thankfully due to your distaste of using bullets, and disabling any and all cameras within a three block radius, you saved us exposure and more importantly two very important casualties."

She sucked her lips into a thin line.

She didn't much appreciate Washington using her PTSD to diffuse the situation.

Ever since the innocent lives she took during V-Day, she would have flashbacks and even panic attacks whenever she held a gun with real bullets. It was lucky she was able to continue as an agent with the (mandatory) help of the official therapist, an owly old woman who was too kind and too impressionable after a few visits. The therapist recommended she be given specially made guns with rubber stun bullets and tranquilizer darts, her favorite being the latter.

"I had to shoot a tranq dart at the pretty boy twice. The model went down immediately," she said, looking at Adams.

He coughed, hiding a laugh, and Washington cleared his throat.

"Well, if you had actually had your tech on you and even back-up, you would've realized that the 'pretty boy' and 'model' were fellow Kingsman."

She faltered, and then sat up in her seat, shaking her head.

"Sorry, thought I heard you say-"

"You heard correctly, Lincoln. You tranquilized two fellow Kingsman agents from the UK branch."

She blinked and opened her mouth. She closed her mouth and then opened it again, hoping something would come out, but it was no use.

"Since the two agents were on a _planned_ mission, they had the tech to realize who you were," Washington continued.

"Just in time," she muttered, recalling the bare bones fight with the pretty boy. Though he wasn't 'pretty' as much as he was-

"It seems the UK Branch had your similar intentions; they also view Marsha Valentine as a threat," Adams said, "And since both you and the male agent have made contact with the target, we will be collaborating with the UK Branch."

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide.

"This has only been done three other times in Kingsman history; collaboration with other branches. The new superior and a select number of agents are coming to our headquarters for this long-term mission. In that select number, the two agents you took down are part of the mission, so you need to make nice as soon as they land," Washington said in a warning tone, staring her down.

She took in a deep breath.

"That's why you're gonna be the one to pick them up from the airport," Adams added, sounding almost too pleased of the fact.

She opened her mouth, faltering, but she shook her head.

"I thought I was grounded?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

The corner of his mouth twitched.

"I persuaded Washington to make an exception."

She shook her head, but he continued.

"Maybe next time you get the idiotic harebrained idea to execute a rogue mission, try not to get caught."

Washington stood up, and she followed suit, her hands coming behind her back again.

"Dismissed, Lincoln," he said sternly. "Other than the airport trip, you are restricted to the grounds."

She wanted to protest, but heard Adams clear his throat. She gave him a quick glance before giving another curt nod to her superior.

"Yes sir."

* * *

She saw him out of the corner of her eye when he came in, but kept going at it.

He stood by the dumbbell rack, grinning his stupid grin with his arms crossed over his chest.

She finally gave up the gun, adding a final roundhouse and upper-cut before dropping her hands and stepping away from the punching bag, using the back of her arm to wipe sweat off her forehead as she caught her breath.

He stayed silent as she unwrapped her hands and guzzled some water down. She walked over to her bag, throwing in the bottle and zipping it closed.

She then turned to him, hands on her hips, still catching her breath as she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Knew you had moxie, but not like that," he said.

Her face twisted as she let out a deep laugh.

"Moxie? Who the fuck uses that anymore?"

"I do, kiddo. And you've got it in spades."

She rolled her eyes as she dropped to the ground to do a post stretch, starting with the butterfly position, resting her forehead on the ground.

She sat up and saw he had sat down across from her, his hazel eyes smiling, his black hair slicked back. He was still in his suit, his vest unbuttoned and his jacket draped over the dumbbells behind him.

"Maybe you should start calling me 'sport' and then buy a green lighbulb to stare at while you throw ragers at your mansion. You've already got the suits," she said as she turned a little to stretch out her legs and pull on her toes.

He showed no reaction to her joke.

"Out of all the things that get on my nerves about what you did, you wanna know the one thing that trumps it all?" he asked.

She sighed.

"What?"

"That you didn't bring me for back-up."

She released her toes, turning to him. He gave a curt nod, looking annoyed.

"Dylan, I-"

"Should've asked me to come with you."

She frowned.

"Should've done a lot of things, Dylan. And you know, more than anyone here that Marsha Valentine has to-"

"Exactly! That's why you should've invited me!" he raised his voice.

She pulled back, and shook her head.

"I wanted to. God, I wanted to Dylan, but it was _rogue_. I'm surprised I wasn't fired! Even though I traced every single step, covered all of my tracks, I still managed to get made and mess it all up. If I'd asked you to come with me, you would've been reprimanded just the same, maybe even worse."

He stayed silent, staring her down.

She shook her head and stood up. She'd finish her stretches in her 'cell', also known as the room she would be staying at while she was grounded.

"At your six, kiddo," he said softly as she walked away. She stopped at the doorway and turned her head, not looking at him, but showing her smile.

"At your six, old man."

She left, bringing the strap further onto her shoulder as she walked to the elevator.

She dropped her resolve as soon as the doors closed and she started descending.

She had been a second away from calling Dylan at the airport after she faked a 'parental emergency' with Adams to get a weekend off. There, of course, was no parental emergency. As soon as her and her sister had turned eighteen, their foster parents bailed. They wouldn't be getting the check anymore, so they didn't bother to continue caring for the foster twins they'd received.

Dylan, also known as 'Roosevelt', was the only Kingsman agent to actually accept her after she came on top in the interviews two years ago.

He'd been an agent for the past ten years, and they came close quickly; he taught her everything he knew, and she even had a few tricks up her sleeve that he adapted. They were always in perfect sync, and were usually assigned missions together since they worked so well, so fluidly, always getting the job done.

And he was always at her back whenever other agents spewed their chauvinism. He set most of the agents in their place soon enough, though there were one or two who still tried. She just ignored them, working to prove them wrong in the field.

But seeing his reaction back in the training room, knowing that he had _wanted_ to be with her while she went against the rules and executed a mission on her own… she wished she could tell him what it meant to her without sounding like a sap.

True, they were close colleagues and even closer friends, and had become even closer after V-Day; they both lost someone close and dear. But knowing that he had her six, _wanted_ to be at her six even when going against the rules… he wasn't just a friend anymore.

He was her family now.

The doors opened and she sped walk to her 'cell', dumping her bag on her bed and walking to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face.

She stood up straight and tilted her head at her reflection.

She shook her head, turning away.

She messed up. She'd have to deal with the circumstances.

Didn't mean that she would take it in stride.

* * *

 _Bad Reputation by Joan Jett & The Blackhearts_


	4. Chapter 3: (Arriving) On A Jet Plane

**(Arriving) On A Jet Plane**

Her eyes moved back and forth across the many people walking around the airport; some hugging in welcome, others in goodbyes, people in business suits walking quickly towards the exit to find a cab.

Her knuckles turned white as she grasped the sign with the codename 'Round Table' scrawled in her big block letters. She wanted to be someone in a business suit.

" _Any sign of 'em?"_

"Nope."

She sighed and glanced over the crowd again and tensed when she saw a slow moving crowd come foroard from the arrival gate, some running to those they were meeting, others just walking along straight to theLuggage Claim.

In her ear, Dylan laughed.

" _This is gonna be good._ "

"Shut your trap, Roosevelt."

He only laughed harder, and replied with something probably sarcastic, but she didn't hear it as her eyes locked onto a pair of familiar green ones. And the one with such eyes was walking straight towards her with a slight grin on his lips.

He was with three others.

She recognized the woman, but there were two other men, one bald with horn rimmed glasses, and the other with a thick head of chestnut brown hair. The four of them all wore suits which seemed a bit too much, especially for L.A., but from her research of the branch, their cover was a tailor ship; their agents were always impeccably dressed. She on the other hand, was casual; dressed in her Kingsman jeans and favorite t-shirt.

They all came to a stop before her, and she smiled at them, falling short when she looked at him as she dropped her arms, folding the sign in half. Thanks to her research, she turned to the bald man and smiled as she held out her hand, greeting the superior first.

"Arthur, sir, a pleasure."

He raised an eyebrow but shook her hand with a firm grip.

"And it's a peculiar honor to meet the agent that solely took out two of my best; humanely with a tranquilizer dart, no less."

She shrugged as she ducked her head.

Someone cleared their throat and she looked up, meeting his gaze as he looked at her, an amused look on his face.

"How's your hip?"

She raised an eyebrow.

The first time she trained after she came home, she tore her stitches. During her second visit to the infirmary, she convinced the doctor to use glue instead. Since then, she trained through the pain. It was better to feel the physical than the emotional.

"How's your bruised ego?" she replied.

The woman burst out laughing as he frowned.

She only grinned and turned, motioning for them to follow.

"The luggage carrier should be rotating by now."

* * *

 _"That was rough."_

She rolled her eyes, turning away and walking towards an empty collum as she brought out her cell phone, pressing it to her ear so it didn't look like she was talking to herself.

"Oh please, he was asking for it."

" _You're threatened by him, aren't you?_ "

She held back a laugh.

"Am I?" she asked sarcastically.

" _Hey, he got the one up on you with the knife… and I distinctly remember you telling me that, and I quote: 'He's the best fighter I've met in a while. I didn't know if I really could've finished the job…'._ "

She brought a hand to her face, groaning.

"Jesus, I'm never drinking with you ever again."

He only laughed in her ear.

 _"You tell me that at least once a month, but the next weekend we're right back where we started."_

"Sorry, excuse me," she heard a voice and closed her mouth from giving a retorting remark. She turned and pocketed her cell phone as she saw it was the woman she shot with her tranq dart. The fellow _female_ Kingsman agent.

"I didn't mean to interrupt-"

"Nope, just my colleague," she said, pointing to her ear. The woman smiled in understanding and nodded.

"Are they here with you?"

"Yeah, he's waiting in the car. You guys got your bags?" she asked, glad that the woman, codename Lancelot if she remembered correctly, didn't hold any bad blood between them. Maybe she was feeling the same residual shock and admiration that there were other female Kingsman agents.

The woman nodded as he – Galahad – came up to them, grinning down at her shirt.

"Sometimes it helps, y'know," he said, tilting his head.

She rolled her eyes, glancing down at her shirt of a cartoon taco with it's hand in the air, the text below reading 'Don't wanna taco bout it.'

"That's the oldedst line I've gotten from this shirt. At least try to be original."

"So you're the taco, then."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

He raised an eyebrow in return.

"Hard shell on the outside, but chewy and soft on the inside," he said, and then gave her another look, down an up her body.

Lancelot slugged his shoulder, but he acted as though it didn't affect him at all as he kept her gaze.

She didn't flinch at the stab on her weight. It was almost a compliment compared to what other people felt the need to say – especially being a woman in her field.

"You're the taco. I'm… I'm the jawbreaker," she said, looking towards the others to make sure they were ready and had their bags before turning back to him, "Taco shells break easily."

She smiled at the others, "Alright then, follow me, ladies," she said, hearing a laugh from Lancelot as she walked away, not bothering to look back to see if they were following. They were agents; she didn't need to babysit them.

"Jawbreaker's not a food, it's a fight move," she heard him mutter and almost laughed out lout.

"Have you never read Willy Wonka?" Lancelot whispered back.

"What, that movie with that bastard Johnny Depp?"

"Jawbreaker's another word for gobbstopper…"

"But that's got a bunch o' layers. What does that have'ta do with the taco?"

"Oh, you are so hopeless."

"Better movie reference would be Shrek and the onion."

"And I shall repeat, you are so hopeless."

She grinned all the way to the parking lot, turning at the last row of cars where she saw Dylan leaning against the trunk of the Cadillac SUV, smiling as he stood up and uncrossed his arms once he saw them. He'd dressed up for the occasion, in his uniform jeans with a white shirt and black blazer.

"Fellow colleagues! Welcome to America!" he said dramatically, popping open the trunk, smartly reaching for Arthur's suitcase first.

"Shut it, Roosevelt," she muttered and he laughed, throwing an arm around her shoulder. She returned the gesture, her hand reaching into his jacket pocket.

"I can only hope that Lincoln here was a bright and sunny greeter?" he asked.

Lancelot nodded and the three men looked at one another.

"Of course!"

There was a beat of silence.

"Well, even though I've been sitting for the past eleven hours, with these three snoring like a winter storm, I'm so tired I need to sit again! Let's go to headquarters, Roosevelt, shall we?"

Lincoln and Roosevelt looked at each other. Seems that she wasn't the only one who did their research.

"I like her," Dylan whispered as the guests entered the car.

"Wait, who called shotgun?" Dylan asked.

She smiled, holding up the key's she'd lifted from him.

"Not my problem," she said as she moved the the driver's side, climbing in and buckling her seatbelt before she turned on the car.

She heard the final car door slam and checked the rearview mirror. Lancelot and Percival were in the far back, with Arthur and Dylan in the back – which meant… she turned to the passenger seat, and refrained from rolling her eyes at Galahad.

With her research, she memorized all of their codenames and faces before she left with Dylan for the airport. She still didn't know their _names_ though.

She turned the car on and lithely pulled out of the parking spot, giving the parking attendant a hefty tip as they left.

It took a while to leave the airport with such traffic, but soon enough they were on the freeway, leaving them in awkward silence.

She let out a soft sigh and turned on the radio, a Black Keys song filling the car.

"Turn it to bluetooth," Dylan said.

"That's a warning if I've ever heard one," she muttered and changed the audio setting. " _We're Going To Be Friends_ " by The White Stipres played.

She let out a harsh laugh and switched it back to the radio.

"Hey, we'll need the right playlist if we're gonna be working together," Dylan defended himself.

She looked at Galahad out of the corner of her eye, and caught him doing the same.

Galahad. What a name. Knights of the Round Table... it was almost _too_ British. Though if she really thought about it, the lot of the UK branch probably felt the same with their code-names as U.S. Presidents.

She looked back to the road, slowing down as she saw traffic ahead.

"So… I'm guessin' you guy's don't use cabs?" Galahad asked.

Dylan was the one to speak.

"Turn it back to bluetooth and I'll tell ya."

Galahad leant forward, and " _With a Little Help From My Friends_ " started playing. Galahad laughed along with others, and she looked in the rearview mirror, surprisingly meeting Arthur's gaze. He only raised an eyebrow at her. She raised one back before looking towards traffic.

"As for your question," Dylan continued, "we have one or two cabs and a Business Uber Account, but with our training in driving, we usually just drive ourselves."

She felt his gaze on her and she ignored him, keeping her eyes on the small sedan in front of her, with the cliché family stickers that included two dogs and a cat.

"What was the trainin' with drivin'?" he asked, confirming her thoughts that each branch had a different 'interview' process.

The corner of her mouth twitched.

Street racing. It was a two parter, mostly. Undercover was the first part, not to raise any suspicions and blend in, the second part was winning the race itself. The last three to cross the finish line were sent home, and three more remained.

Dylan answered again.

"Street racing."

There was silence.

"Well that's vague," Percival muttered.

"What were your weapon scores?" Galahad asked instead, looking at her, "Must've been top notch; that butterfly blade you dropped back in New York but risked discovery to go back for… I figure that's your weapon of choice."

She frowned and something in the corner of her eye had her moving her gaze to the rearview mirror again, in time to see Dylan's jaw twitch.

She looked to Galahad. When they were having a slumber party and painting each other's toenails, _then_ she would tell him why she went back for it.

"Scores mean nothing. I'm here now, aren't I?" she asked, giving another glance towards Dylan, checking to see how he was doing. He lifted his head and they caught each other's eyes before she turned back to watch the road. She checked her side view and swerved to the next lane, speeding up and passing another slow moving car, her signal on the whole time as she stopped in the number one lane of the freeway.

"She's still rough with a sniper rifle. She does better hand to hand," Dylan said, and Ana rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I know that," Galahad muttered, and she turned and glared at him.

He only grinned, and she shook her head.

"I could help train you, if you'd like. Seems you've got some more to learn in that field," she said.

His grin fell, and his eyes dropped into slits as he turned away and faced the windshield, taking the liberty to change the station back to KROQ, currently playing a Red Hot Chili Peppers song.

"Oh come on, I had the Toy Story song next," Dylan said.

"Hell no," she said at the same time he muttered "Nope".

They drove in silence the rest of the way. Percival and Lancelot put the windows down and enjoyed the coastline as they drive the PCH for a few miles.

She turned onto a shoulder and onto an unmarked road, the dirt road a little bumpy.

"Doesn't look like much at first, but it's all mostly underground," she said, "We're close enough to LAX that it needs to seem like just another mansion in the Pacific Palisades to overhead planes."

"Why so close to... to..."

"To civilization?" she finished, looking over at Galahad. "Because shit goes down in the city, not the suburbs. And there's not a lot of untouched area here. Just big properties."

"We're one of the big ones," Dylan said.

Soon the dirt road smoothed out into pavement, and they turned a corner to see the luxurious mansion that was the US Kingsman Headquarters. But, like the iceberg of the Titanic, there was much more below.

She pulled up to the doors, where two techies rushed forward to open the car doors for their guests.

"Welcome to Kingsman, the American branch."

* * *

 _Leaving On A Jet Plane by John Denver_

 _Thanks for the reviews! They mean a lot. Seriously. Expect for more puns regarding reviews to come. It engages my creative side._

 _G: I gotchu, girl. With this specific character I had a lot of inspiration from my own A &D, if you get my drift. Thank you for the review._

 _Guest: I hope you read further. If not, I understand. But to be honest your review gave me a great idea for a future chapter, so thank you!_

 _That's why I love reviews. Negative and positive. It helps me as a writer grow and change and think of better things._

 _You all are amazing and beautiful and I am forever grateful._


	5. Chapter 4: Fire Meet Gasoline

_Hello lovelies! Sorry for the delay. Thank you so much for the reviews! Seriously! All kinds of input I hold very dear and help me grow as a writer, but they also help me approach this story from different views. You are all awesome. I would also like to thank Kiss My Quill and theladylove for being my awesome Betas. Round of applause for them!_

 _Hope you enjoy, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter…_

* * *

 **Fire Meet Gasoline**

The silent tension in the Dining Room soon eased as Kennedy, a quiet man who turned almost scary during missions, surprisingly pushed out the empty chair next to him to provide a seat for Lancelot.

After that, the introductions were quick and neat, save for when Washington glared her down and forced her to apologize to Galahad and Lancelot in front of everyone, which of course wasn't an apology at all and was cut off mid-sentence by Adams. Galahad's grin irked her, but she ignored it.

Percival, however, seemed un-phased as he asked the question "So, what is your cover, exactly?"

"Cover?" Washington asked.

Ana and Dylan shared a look.

It seemed that the American branch had done more research of their UK counterpart than vice versa.

"May I, sir?" Ana asked, and Washington gave her a short nod.

She gave a nod back and turned to her guests.

"We run… differently here than you do back home. This is Los Angeles, after all, so the unusual is mostly seen as another day in the city. Additionally, the United States is more… diverse, not to say that the UK is any different… however the States are much… bigger. Therefore, we don't use a main cover; we have our own to make for specific missions throughout the nation, specified to the State or area."

"What about suits?" Lancelot asked, and Ana grinned.

"That's where we've lucked out. The most American piece of fabric is denim; that's where our outfits come into play."

"Jeans, shirts, jackets-"

"And dresses-" she intervened.

Roosevelt smiled. "And dresses… all made to be bulletproof, breathable, the perfect outfit we need when on mission."

"Plus, no one suspects someone in a pair of jeans, do they?" Ana asked rhetorically.

Arthur nodded, giving a smile.

"Levi Strauss would be proud."

Adams escorted Arthur and the others out to show them to their rooms – thankfully a floor below from her own – before Washington gave them a stern 'we are hosts so act like it' speech. He sent a final steely look at her before dismissing them.

The four agents at home lingered in the hall, Ana peering through the doorway to see Washington and Adams confer over the table. There were small projectors under the glass table, visible to the naked eye for viewing. From what Ana had read of the UK branch, they'd need glasses for that.

She frowned. The four that were here wore glasses. Were they… recording them?

She felt Dylan nudge her softly and turned to the rest of the group.

Hoover, the epitome of a 'dude bro' only gave what he probably thought was a charming grin as he said "I call dibs on the Lancelot chick," and then gave a leering look to Ana before walking away.

Kennedy sighed, scratching the back of his head. He was tall and bulky, kept a trimmed beard and buzzcut of thick black hair. He was a man of few words and was somewhat frightening during missions – precise, quick, lethal, and brutal – sometimes unnecessarily. Because of that, and the fact that he was an ex Navy SEAL, everyone, even Washington, gave him a wide berth because he did what it all came down to: he got the job done.

He met her eyes, and she raised an eyebrow – something she did every time she met his cold gaze, and something that each time made the corner of his mouth twitch.

"Call me when Lancelot beats his ass," he said before leaving.

Ana turned to Dylan, also known as Roosevelt, curious to what he was going to say. To her surprise, he had a slight frown on his face.

"Washington's right. Whatever happened between you and Galahad – it needs to stop."

She only stared.

He stuck his hands in his pockets as he continued.

"You told me yourself, Galahad also made contact with Marsha… that's probably the reason they're even here, why you're still here and not _fired_. Remember that their branch was the reason V-Day was even stopped-"

"Yeah, I remember," she snapped as she walked away.

"At your six, kiddo!"

"At your six, old man," she muttered loud enough for him to hear her.

Once she reached her room she changed into her workout gear, needing time in the training room. Beating at a punching bag sounded better than a bubble bath right now – which meant she was in more trouble than she thought.

She had almost made it to the room undisturbed, but it was only wishful thinking when she heard a distinct demeaning tone call out her name in the hall.

Her hand tightened on the strap of her small tote bag holding water, towels, and an extra shirt as she kept walking and ignored the voice calling after her.

Hoover was a bulky guy, one of the newer additions two years after she joined, replacing an agent who had retired. And he was a complete asshole. Even his real name, Brock, was almost a precursor to his personality; the jock type that people learn about in high school cliques, and he lived up to his name. He had curly blonde hair and thick brown eyebrows with a soft face and equally soft and fragile ego. She wondered every day why he was an agent – had even asked to watch the interview process footage – but was denied.

"Heard you've been a bad girl, Lincoln," she heard him say, his footsteps quickening to catch up to her. She could see the doorway to the training room when he grabbed her arm. She stopped and turned, pulling her arm from his grasp as she glared at him.

"I like bad girls, Lincoln," he continued with a voice that he probably considered suave.

"Go fuck yourself, Hoover. Save the female population the trouble," she said, turning to walk away but he grabbed her arm again.

She turned and grasped at the wrist holding her, twisting the skin as she kicked her foot out to strike at his knee from the side.

Hoover yelled out and dropped to his knees as she expected; his grasp loosening as she stepped away.

"I thought we've been through this, Hoover. Your disgusting paws are to never touch me. How many times does this need to happen for it to register in that pea sized brain?"

Hoover stood up quickly and advanced on her, stopping inches apart as she stood her ground.

"I can do whatever I please, bitch, and I know there's nothin-" he was cut off when a hand grasped around his neck and pushed, Galahad shoving him against the wall.

"You'll do well enough to listen to your colleague, bruv," Galahad said, his voice dark and threatening. Ana could only blink, a part of herself angry that she didn't even see him coming, the other wanting to know what would happen.

Hoover stared at Galahad, another ugly grin appearing on his face as he shoved the arm on his neck away, taking a step forward.

"She ain't a colleague, _bruv_ ," he said mockingly, "she's just the fat bitch that cheated her way into this agency."

Galahad started to speak, his voice raised, but when she laughed he stopped, turning his head to her – but her gaze was on Hoover.

"Wow, you're still buds with Thomas, aren't you? Such a chip on that weak shoulder," she said, remembering him from the group of recruits that she was in. He had the same mindset as Brock: 'I'm big and strong; I belong here'.

He was one of the three to be sent home after the street race.

"You-" Hoover started as he took a step towards her, another nasty look on his face, but Galahad stepped between them, stopping him.

"I'm here because I earned it," she snapped, in anger at not only Hoover's behavior but also at Galahad's unnecessary help, "I didn't fuck up like your friend. He's gonna have to live with the fact he can't drive. If he wants to spew bullshit – then he'll have to live with being a sore loser. That's got nothing to do with me."

She stepped forward and not so elegantly nudged Galahad out of the way as she stared Brock down.

"However Washington won't be so pleased to hear that Thomas has violated his NDA," she said, smiling as Hoover's eyes grew wide. The NDA all new recruits were required to sign removed the typical heavy lawsuit proceedings in favor for a more extreme punishment. You blab, you die.

"I'll keep silent - if you'd like, but we do the race on our own. See who actually belongs here."

Hoover stayed silent, glancing at Galahad and then back at her.

"I'm not the one who needs a bodyguard," he said, shaking his head. "And you're half an agent, can't even use a fucking gun anym-" she cut him off with a quick punch to his throat.

Hoover coughed and fought for breath as his hands came to his neck. He reared up, ready for a fight, but then looked at the two of them. He shook his head, coughing and muttering as he flipped the bird and walked away.

"God, what an arse," Galahad muttered as Hoover turned the corner, his echoing footsteps fading. He turned to Ana, raising an eyebrow. "You 'kay?"

She kicked out again, hitting his knee like she had done with Hoover. He yelled out as he fell onto his knees, looking up at her.

"I can take care of myself," she seethed, ignoring his utter look of surprise as she walked away – needing to punch something more than ever.

* * *

She was giving it her everything; small shouts and grunts emitting from her as she let it all out onto the punching bag. Sweat dripped down her face but she kept at it, throwing kicks and punches as Kanye West played from her workout mix.

She had to train twice as hard and twice as much as the others to stay in shape, but it seemed her body was made for the weight she was at. No matter what she did, she never went below double digits in clothing size.

For her, her weight was a double-edged sword: one edge the insecurity and self-consciousness, littered with teasing and harassment from strangers and fellow agents, specifically Hoover, the other edge being her advantage; no one expected a 'chubby' girl to be an agent. No one expected it when she knocked them on their feet, or shot first, or even caught and tackled them during a chase on foot.

As for the beating she was giving the punching bag now, it was a mix of things. Her screw-up in New York – not taking out Galahad the instant she had the chance so as to get away smoothly instead of starting this fiasco. Hoover saying what she'd thought every day since she was given the go ahead from the psychologist after agreeing to use tranq guns: she's only half the agent she used to be. Then there was Galahad himself, giving Hoover more ammo than he already had against her.

Her reputation in the agency was independence.

She'd been appointed and effortlessly executed solo missions. The other agents were wary to train hand to hand with her. And Dylan was the only one who actually bothered getting to know her.

Only a few agents knew she used tranquilizer darts instead of bullets. Those agents, except Dylan, didn't want to go on missions with her. That had tampered her reputation, but it was still standing.

With one move and a couple of words, Galahad had toppled her reputation over and ground it into dust.

She yelled out as she gave a rapid set of jabs, ending with a roundhouse kick, the chain from the punching bag tinkling with the force.

She pulled back, keeping her arms up as she caught her breath when she saw a figure enter the room from the corner of her eye.

She expected it was Dylan so she kept at it, punches here, kicks there, keeping her yells and grunts under control – he always teased her about it – but she stopped mid-punch when her music was cut off.

She turned and blinked when she saw it was Galahad.

He'd changed into grey sweats and a white tank which showed his sculpted arms.

He tilted his head as he kept her gaze.

 _This oughta be good_.

Her arms dropped and she walked to the nearby bench as she took off her boxing gloves. She kept the small strips of gauze wrapped around her knuckles as she grabbed her water bottle and took a few generous gulps of water, using a hand towel to wipe sweat off her face, chest, and arms.

"Didn't know Jawbreakers held so much pent up anger. Thought it was sweet, like candy."

"What the hell do you want, Galahad?" she asked, staring down at her almost empty water bottle, trying to catch her breath silently. She already disliked him; she didn't want to hurt him even more if he gave a lame insult towards her weight.

"That bloke… Hoover… he always such a twat?"

She let out an unexpected laugh but then shook her head, capping her water bottle. She leveled her gaze as she finally turned towards him.

"Thanks to you, he'll be unbearable now."

"That was bearable?!" he asked, crossing his arms.

She sighed.

"What do you want, Galahad?"

"Just curious," he said. She rolled her eyes and returned to the punching bag, leaving her gloves behind.

"It killed the cat. I'd be careful," she muttered, throwing a few soft punches and a kick – without the gloves, she couldn't go full power without making nasty blisters.

He walked forward and held the bag for her.

She stepped back, shaking her head.

"What do you want, Galahad?" she repeated yet again.

He smiled.

"Well, I was thinkin'… ya said you can take care of yourself. And ya even offered to train… So how 'bout round two?"

She stared, her fingers curling up into fists.

"Round two?"

"How 'bout it?"

She titled her head, looking him up and down.

"I'll pass," she said, walking back to the bench, shoving her water and sweaty towels into her bag. She had just zipped it closed when he spoke again.

"It's the least ya could do."

She stopped and turned, crossing her arms.

"I owe you nothing-"

"Ya cheated, and we both know it. C'mon," he said, taking a step towards her, making her tense up, "a fair fight. Round two."

She stared at him for a long beat before turning back to her bag, unwrapping the gauze from her hands. He asked for a fair fight – he'd get one.

She turned back around and caught his grin, making her falter. She then grinned back as she reached down to grasp the hem of her tank drenched with sweat, and pulled it over her head, leaving her in high-waist leggings and her sports bra. She tossed the shirt aside as they walked towards each other.

Her plan worked: he stared down at her chest.

"Hey," she said casually and he looked up, his eyes slightly out of focus, "Eyes up here buddy."

Her arm swung into an uppercut, hitting his chin; his head threw back, his body following as he stumbled away.

She immediately returned to her fighting stance, lightly bouncing on her feet as she watched him regain his composure, acting stupidly as he mindlessly charged at her.

She turned at the last second, clasping her hands together and raising them in a joined fist, hitting down hard on his back as he moved past her.

She had wanted to throw him off his feet, but he kept his stance and only stumbled again, this time letting out a growl.

He turned back and that's when it turned into a real fight. Hands and feet flew: blocking, attacking, unexpectedly meeting body parts with each other as they both tried a move. Sometimes she landed a hit, other times he got the better of her and landed a punch or two himself – and the fact that he wasn't holding back because she was a woman had her grinning as they sparred.

He made a confusing move, acting as though he was punching her in the chest but instead his other hand shot out to her stomach, his foot kicking at her side, sending her spinning to the ground. She caught herself on her hands, pushing off the floor to roll away and jump right back up, trying to commit that move to memory.

"Holly?" he asked, his breathing a little heavy. They'd both been at it for a couple minutes now.

She froze, turning to look at him as he reached an arm up to point on his own back shoulder where her tattoos were.

"Fan of Christmas, are we?" he asked.

She let out a yell as she advanced, fists flying; he barely had the time to block one or two of them, but the rest of her punches became hits, pushing him back towards the wall.

When she and Natalia both turned eighteen, they got matching tattoos. They were Christmas babies - Natalia was rightfully named so by their real parents, the ones they never met; as her name translated into 'born on Christmas'. Ana, known as Anastasia to only her sister, was given the name that meant 'loving' which coincided with the holiday, even if it didn't have such a direct connection. They both got a sprig of holly, each a different design. When Natalia died, Ana got her design right below her own.

"There's two different designs, why's that?" he asked as he swung out his leg but she blocked his kick and jumped back, bringing her fists up again and landing a few hits to his gut. He coughed but actually _laughed_.

"Oh, so they mean somethin'?" he asked, blocking her next punches and delivering a push kick she was too late to block. She stumbled back, keeping her footing as she brought her hands up again.

"Maybe I like the plant's poisonous qualities," she snarled, taking a step forward and delivering a side kick, but he reached up in time to grab a hold of her ankle.

They stopped momentarily, their eyes meeting as she stood on one foot, her leg in his grasp. She moved first, trying to pull back but he was just as fast, pulling on her leg and then jumping; they spun in the air and landed hard, her head hitting the ground as his body fell on top of hers.

Her breath left her and she gasped. He lifted himself off her slightly, alleviating some of his weight, but his hands moved to grasp her wrists.

"So, Christmas girl, what's with the tats?" he whispered, their faces inches apart, accepting victory.

She relaxed in his grasp, letting out a deep breath, putting on what she thought was an Oscar worthy performance as she acted hurt.

He fell for it. The second she felt his grasp on her wrists loosen just a smidge she moved, bringing her leg up to give a kick to the back of his head before pushing on the ground to turn them over so she was on top. She landed a punch to his jaw and moved forward to hold his hands down like he had done to her, moving her legs to lock his down so he couldn't budge.

"Christmas is for suckers."

He let out a laugh and sighed, his body relaxing, as though finally accepting defeat, but she kept her guard, her grip tight.

"Such a contradiction… is ya name Holly or something? Is it a regret that ya got when you were eighteen?" he asked.

She tightened her grip on his wrists, her fingernails digging into his skin. His eyes widened, but kept her gaze.

"Oh, so she likes it rough?" he asked.

She yelled out and brought her head down, hitting the crown of her head between his eyes.

She blinked her eyes, only lightly thrown off guard at the move.

"Shit," he mumbled, "so the tattoos are a no talk subject, then?"

"It only took you until now to realize?" she asked in a condescending tone.

He blinked some more, still reeling from the head-butt, but shook his head.

"Your trick to distract me with your tits didn't work out like ya planned, did it, luv?"

Her face twisted as she yelled out again, releasing one of his arms to throw another punch to his jaw, and for extra measure his neck, hitting him straight on his Adams apple like she had done to Hoover earlier.

His body convulsed under hers as he choked out, his free hand coming to his throat as his eyes closed.

"Lincoln!" a sharp yell rang throughout the room.

She looked up to see Adams and Arthur standing just out of the doorway, both with their arms crossed and both with a stern look on their faces.

She scrambled off of Galahad and jumped to her feet.

"Oh, hello!" she said as Galahad let out another cough or two, moving a little slower as he got to his feet. "We were just… uhm, conversing," she said pathetically, knowing what they had seen.

Adams walked forward, stopping right in front of her.

"You're lucky you're already grounded, Lincoln."

"Sir, it was me, I offered a fight-" Galahad started.

"When training hand to hand our agents use protective gear, and she knows that," Adams said, turning to Galahad. "Are you alright?"

Galahad only nodded, letting out another small cough.

"Just peachy. But it was still-"

"Lincoln, dismissed," Adams interrupted, not looking at her.

She sighed and smartly kept her mouth shut as she went to grab her bag, moving to the other end of the room to grab her discarded tank top before leaving, giving a curt nod to Arthur.

Who, to her surprise, was wearing a faint ghost of a grin on his lips.

* * *

 _Fire Meet Gasoline by Sia_


	6. Chapter 5: Ready To Start

_Hello lovelies! My hometown is on fire (far away enough that I can see it from my back-yard yet not too close to be worried of evacuation) so I'm posting a chapter! That, and I'm just really freakin' exited to move this story forward. I hope you all enjoy._

 _Again, shout out to my beta's: Kiss My Quill and theladylove._

* * *

 **Ready To Start**

Later that night she was stretching in her room before she got ready for bed. It was an agonizing ordeal as Galahad had left more than a few bruises, so she was slower than usual despite the vitamins and Advil she'd taken.

She sighed as she finished her last stretch, changing the song on her laptop – she'd left her iPod at the training room, she'd get it tomorrow.

There was a series of knocks on her door and she sighed, keeping Ryn Weaver playing as she went to open the door.

"I don't wanna hear it Dylan, pretty boy got what he asked for-"

She stopped when she realized it was not Dylan but the 'pretty boy' himself at her door.

"Pretty boy, eh?" he grinned, his head tilting as she frowned.

How the hell did he know where she was?

"Roosevelt," she sighed, shaking her head. He nodded.

"Didn't even hesitate… the lot of us are a floor below, did'ya know that?"

She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow.

"What… did you come here for another beating? Third time's a charm, all that jazz?" she asked, crossing her arms and leaning on the doorway.

He grinned.

"The third time will definitely be a charm, but no," he said, bringing the hand he was holding behind his back forward, showing her iPod that she'd left in the training room after being kicked out by Adams.

She hid her surprise as she reached forward to take it, but he drew it back, shaking his head, grinning.

"So you _are_ a T. Swift fan," he said.

She stopped, but then frowned.

 _He went through her iPod_?!

She tried to get it from him again but he dodged her every move. She figured she could fight him for it, but her body was sore enough so she decided against it.

"Hey, don't be ashamed. You're Beatles collection is quite extensive."

She refrained from grinning. One of the few Pro's of her foster parents was their taste in music; moreso their own extensive collection of Beatles music that she downloaded.

"Give it here, Galahad," she snapped.

He tilted his head.

"Now, why should I just give it over, Lincoln?" he asked.

She opened her mouth to give a reply but the ring of her cell-phone interrupted.

They stared at each other for a beat before she turned around, heading to her bedside table as she grabbed her phone, looking at the screen.

She stopped, the phone still vibrating in her hand. The screen showed the number calling, but there was an asterisk in the bottom left hand corner, telling her it was a civilian call.

"It's an unknown number, you should-" he started but her hand flew up to cover his mouth as she shook her head. The area code was from New York. She accepted the call and put it on speaker, bringing up the number pad to tap in a code so the call recorded to their database.

"This is Ms… Finch, how can I help you?" she asked, faltering as she remembered her cover name.

She felt a tongue touch her fingers and jumped, drawing her hand back from Galahad's mouth, frowning as he grinned. She punched his gut and he let out an 'umph' but they both stopped when a familiar voice emitted from her phone, confirming Ana's feeling of who it was.

" _My dear, it's Marsha Valentine, do you rememb-_ "

"Of course Mrs. Valentine, I could never forget such lovely company."

There was a soft laugh.

" _Oh, just as sweet as ever, dearie. I know this is last minute and I hate to skip the pleasantries, but I've got a fashion emergency and need your help,_ " Marsha said.

Ana met Galahad's gaze. He gave a curt nod, his lips titled down, his eyes staring into hers.

"I've been known to turn emergencies into success," she stated, wincing at her lame reply. She felt fingers graze her arm and looked at Galahad, who nodded.

" _Oh, you are a life saver. I've got this Gala, complete waste of time if you ask me, but I just have to show my face. My now ex-stylist offered another skirt suit for it, but_ -"

"You need to wear something that makes a statement," she said, and Galahad's grazing fingers gripped her arm. She ignored the shiver down her spine combined with the fleeting feeling to shake him off as she continued, "I can fly in tomorrow, I'm just finishing up with a client in Seattle," she said.

" _Oh, you're the best! I can pay for your flight_ -"

"Nonsense, Marsha. You'll only be paying for my services and nothing else."

" _And honorable! I couldn't have asked for more, dearie,_ " she said and Ana flinched, her hand tightening around the phone, her knuckles turning white.

"When do you need me, Marsha?" she asked.

" _Yesterday would be best, but as soon as you can get here, I'd love your help. The Gala is this weekend_."

Ana frowned. With the flight to New York, that left her only a day to find something for Marsha to wear – as a _fake_ stylist no less…

Galahad stepped in front of her and nodded silently.

She nodded as well and then flinched, embarrassed as she replied.

"I'll take the next flight over, just give me the address."

She stared up at Galahad as Marsha rattled off info to where she was staying in New York, the hotel she'd already arranged for her to stay at, which was the same as where the Gala was to be held.

" _And of course as thanks for this last minute rescue, you've got a ticket and a plus one to the event, it's the least I could do._ "

She stuttered, but Galahad reached forward, resting his hand over her white knuckles. She looked up at him wide eyed. He gave a curt nod.

She stayed still as she spoke.

"It would be a pleasure, Marsha. Though I'll have to check my contacts for my plus one," she said tersely, glaring at Galahad as he only grinned, his eyes roaming her face, landing on her lips… She blinked.

" _Perfection! Text me your flight details, I'll have a car pick you up._ "

"Marsha, that's not-"

" _I insist! I've got to let you go now, dear! Thank you! See you soon!_ " Marsha said before the call ended.

Ana let out a shaky breath, her tight grip on the phone loosening.

Galahad, who's hand was still on hers, squeezed. She blinked again and pulled back, dropping her head so she didn't look at him.

"This is good, Lincoln. This is the 'in' we need."

She nodded, refraining from flinching at the 'we', bringing up her contacts as she called Adams, keeping her phone on speaker.

"Lincoln this better be-"

"Review the call I just sent. Galahad and I will meet you in the Dining room."

* * *

If only she could control them, make them give her an apology, a thank you… _anything_. If it wasn't for her, they wouldn't be there finalizing plans for a short, soft, covert mission. With the target that _she_ risked her ass, even her job, for.

She and Galahad stood at one end of the table, Washington and Merlin at the other side as Adams laid out the details of the Gala while pacing.

A 'Green' Fundraiser: promoting ecological and economical ways of life. A seat was over five hundred dollars. A four course meal was another six hundred. So far, none of the guests put up any red flags except for Marsha Valentine. However considering her attendance, she wasn't just to attend such a Gala to rub noses and drink with benefactors – she was there to do 'business'.

"Lincoln, good on keeping the plus one a mystery. Given the debriefing and recordings from Galahad's tech of the… fateful… night, this will be a surprise to Marsha, however not an unpleasant one," Washington said, staring down at her as though enjoying her disdain.

She didn't move, instead just curled her hands into fists. Great. Just great. Mission time with _him_.

Arthur cleared his throat.

"This is a double mission. You will both get close to the target, however you will both be given listening and monitoring devices to either plant on her security, or, if god forbid you are invited, at her home. Even though it is one of many, her New York home is where she stays the most."

Adams from the corner spoke up.

"Our tailors and stylists have brought forward a collection of dresses-" he started but Ana shook her head, cutting him off.

"They can barely make a pair of jeans that fit me. I'd rather go with my own judgment," she said, turning towards Washington and Arthur, faltering before she finished with, "sirs."

She took a breath at their concerned faces as she continued.

"I will need an allowance to shop in New York, with the target of course. However, with my 'rates' the allowance will return almost doubled."

Washington nodded.

"Understood. Adams has created a deeper cover for you, including your own website and even a fake magazine interview. We can't let anything slip through the cracks. This approved mission needs to go flawlessly."

She heard Galahad clear his throat, and frowned.

"Of course, sir."

Merlin nodded.

"Very well. We've already booked the two of you a flight, you both leave for the airport in five hours. Dismissed, Kingsman."

* * *

Dylan sat on her bed, grinning, as she packed her suitcase.

"Stop it," she snapped, tired of the dopey yet smug look on his face before stuffing her make-up into a small pouch and tossing it onto the bed. Her other pouch with her toothbrush, paste, and floss followed, along with her toiletry bag.

"This is just too good, Ana. Too good," he said, shaking his head, still grinning. "This is like those cheesy movies and books! Faking a relationship, and somehow it turns into more-"

"Maybe I'm a player, and he's my boy-toy for the month," she said tersely, ignoring his comment. The way Galahad had stared and grinned at her in the hall after they left the Dining room… she was going to make this just as difficult for him as he was going to make it for her, and she would enjoy every second it it.

"Just don't fight him, you've got enough bruises as it is," he muttered, his tone serious.

She stopped and turned.

"He asked about my tattoo's, Dylan. Made _fun_ of them."

"Why don't you tell him, then?"

She let out a snort.

"Yeah, and then we can braid each other's hair and share some Pino Grigio while we talk about our troubles."

Dylan frowned.

"Hey, I thought that was our thing," he said, the small twitch at the corner of his mouth giving him away.

She couldn't hide her grin as she shook her head, mentally going through her checklist as she looked over her suitcase before zipping it closed. Her laptop and purse were already packed. She'd buy a dress in New York, not wanting to bother with a garment bag.

She was all set.

Dylan sighed, standing up and opening his arms, which she willingly stepped into, wrapping her arms around his middle, resting her ear on his chest to listen to his steady yet slightly quick heartbeat.

"Have a good mission kiddo. It hasn't been the same without you out on the field."

She nodded, wrapping her arms around him tighter, taking comfort in his embrace.

"Kennedy can hold his own; he's a good agent."

He nodded before leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

She pulled back, looking up and smiling at him.

"Hey, maybe after this mission they'll lift my grounding," she said.

They stared at each other for a beat before both laughing.

"Washington's too stubborn for that, Ana," Dylan said, tucking one hand into his suit pocket, the other nudging at her chin. "Something the two of you have in common."

* * *

 _Ready To Start by Arcade Fire_


	7. Chapter 6: New York, I Love (Hate) You

_Hello all! Just a disclaimer since The Golden Circle is now in theaters: this story is not connected to the sequel in any way. This is my own take on the 'Statesman'. (BTDubs what did you guys think of the sequel? To be completely honest, I've got mixed feelings…)_

 _Thanks to my beta's:_ _Kiss My Quill and theladylove_.

 _Also, Gemma, I f* &#ing love you. Thank you._

 _Please review!_

* * *

 **New York, I Love (Hate) You**

She slapped his hand away as it curved around her waist for the umpteenth time while they waited for their luggage at JFK.

"Just playin' the part, dear," he whispered close to her ear.

"You're my flavor of the month. My flavors don't do PDA, _dear_ ," she snapped, smiling at the sound of Luggage Claim powering up, suitcases soon rolling down the belt. They stood together, him trying to sneak his hand around her waist yet again.

It was as though he enjoyed getting on her nerves.

She just walked away, feigning that she saw her suitcase, but he followed close behind.

"What are you afraid of, Holly?" he whispered.

She froze, this time not paying attention as his hand rested on her hip, tucking her body into his.

"What did you just call me?" she asked breathlessly.

"Well, seein' as I don't know your name yet - which by the way is weird, don't ya think? - that's what I'm gonna call you."

She took a deep breath, settling her face into a blank expression before turning to look up at him.

"According to my various forms of identification, I'm Natasha. You'll call me as such," she seethed.

He titled his head, but shrugged.

They turned back to the luggage claim and saw their suitcases.

"Let me be chivalrous, Nat, for-"

Without thinking about it she quickly turned and hit two pressure points on his chest, making him gasp and freeze, his face wincing in pain as he coughed out his stolen breath.

She leaned up and whispered in his ear, for effect of any onlookers, but her voice was steel when she spoke.

"Call me that again and it won't be a tranquilizer dart pointing at your 'goodies' next time around. And trust me, I won't hesitate to pull the trigger," she said stiffly before walking away and grabbing her suitcase off the moving belt, ignoring his request at chivalry. He came next to her, grabbing his own case, thankfully staying silent as they walked towards the exit gate.

"There," he said, nodding towards a stout man with a receding hairline holding a sign that read 'Finch'. She plastered on a smile as they approached – at least Galahad got the message and didn't try to put his arm around her waist again.

"Call me Natasha," she said, holding her hand out. The man smiled, showing a few gold fillings as he shook her hand vigorously.

"Mrs. Valentine will be extremely pleased to know you've made it, and in such short time too! She's waiting at the first store you suggested, let's get going."

This time when Galahad's hand snaked around her waist, she didn't object. This man was hired by Marsha – it was now time to start the façade.

* * *

They were at the third store so far, and he was slowly losing his mind.

Jesus, how long did it take for a woman to chose _one_ dress for a night out?

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts as he sipped his coffee at the café next door to the boutique. They had both agreed that it would be a great talking point for them if he revealed he was the plus one at the Gala. But he still followed, watching Lincoln and Marsha's interactions, since he had nothing else to do. He thought if he did so he might learn more about his partner, even if from afar.

He wanted to bring out his phone to text Roxy, but they were on radio silence. No communication, only tracking. His glasses were even offline, only recording and doing nothing else.

Marsha stepped out of the dressing room in a dark green gown, a slight frown on her face.

Immediately, as though she wasn't staring out the window with a scowl on her face, 'Natasha' turned and smiled at her.

She said something and stepped forward as Marsha looked at herself in the mirror.

Marsha sighed, and shook her head.

'Natasha' grasped Marsha's hands, smiling. He watched her face; bright, but fake, as she seemed to point out different aspects of the gown, trying to sell her on it. He wondered if he would prefer that bright look to the glares and eye rolls he consistently received.

He shook his head at himself again, coming to a quick conclusion. It was the latter; if she was looking at him, he didn't want her being fake.

He blinked, wondering why he was even thinking of such a thing as Marsha blushed and shook her head before moving back into the dressing room.

He watched as Lincoln stared after Marsha, her smile falling the instant the drape drew shut, her usual scowl returning to its place as she continued looking out the shop window.

She was an enigma if anything.

Not just her animosity towards him – which he understood. He put up a good fight – _both_ times they had gone hand to hand.

But it was the tattoo's and more to the point, her reaction to him bringing them up.

That her cover name was Natasha, though the nickname 'Nat' was completely off-limits.

And then there was the way Marsha treated her like a pseudo daughter, but every time Marsha turned the other way, her face fell and pure hatred shone in her eyes. He considered himself lucky; despite their own tense relationship, he wasn't on the receiving end of such a look.

Who was this girl? Hoover's comment before she punched him had him double checking their weapons suitcase before they left and saw she hadn't brought any bullets – like he had encountered the last time they were in New York. She only had tranquilizer bullets this time. She was cut off, barely showing anything to him directly, but in moments when she thought she was invisible she showed everything, especially in her eyes.

The unspeakable tattoo's, the unspeakable nickname, the unspeakable _everything_ …

Who was she?

And what the hell was her real _name_?

Marsha drew the drape to the dressing room, dressed back in her original pantsuit and Lincoln, as though on automatic, smiled and led them out of the shop, their arms linked together.

He turned away as he took one last gulp of his coffee, hailing a cab to follow theirs.

* * *

She took a deep breath, staring herself down in the mirror.

"You can do this," she muttered to herself, her hands flat on the counter in the bathroom curling into fists.

She was all made-up, the dress was on. The Gala had already started, but as Marsha had even told them, 'fashionably late is a staple in this kind of kiss-ass business'.

The last time she was dressed up and in the same room with Galahad, they were pointing guns and drawing knives on one another.

Back then he was an unknown complication.

And now… well…he was still a complication but he was a colleague. They would be in the same room - both dressed up even more than before - and acting as lovers. She had to put on the act to be a stylist and friend while imagining different ways to end Marsha's life and she could certainly do the same with Galahad.

While she had to put on the act to be a stylist and friend all the while imagining different ways to end Marsha's life, Ana could do the same with Galahad.

She closed her eyes, her nails biting into her palms.

She thought back to Dylan and his confusion at her less than welcoming attitude towards the colleague who was on the other side of the door…

Half of it was her wounded pride – she had meant it when she drunkenly told Dylan that he was a skilled fighter and had almost beaten her. She was never _almost_ beaten… she was always the one to win; the one to succeed, the one to complete the mission. Being a woman in her field drove that need to come on top. Add her wounded pride to the blasé and annoying confidence he had (equally matched with her own), ), plus the fact that he always had an answer to her sarcastic and offhanded remarks… what wasn't there for her to dislike?

However, the other half just drew a blank. It was as though her subconscious was warning herself about him.

 _Stay the course, stay inaccessible: stay away._

 _This one is going to break you…_

She shook her head, her hands gliding down the soft fabric of her purple floor length dress, sleeveless with a sheer fabric covering one shoulder. She'd put her hair up in a rough bun, not too messy, with one or two strands hanging down to frame her face, more-so for her to fidget with than anything else. She couldn't even remember the last time she wore so much makeup. She had to reapply her eye shadow and eyeliner multiple times, perfecting the smoky eye effect.

She hated these types of missions. The chumming up; getting an 'in' with the target, pretending as though she belonged among those that had houses ten times bigger than her studio apartment.

Give her a few (tranq) guns and body armor and she was ready to take down anybody. But dressing up?

No thank you.

But this mission, this target… this would end it all. Her promise to her sister would be fulfilled.

And in a sick twisted round of events… she couldn't do it alone.

She stared at herself in the mirror again.

They were colleagues, and it was needed for the mission.

For Nat.

She kept recycling those two phrases in her head as she sighed and swung the door open, walking into the hotel room they shared – Marsha had only booked one room for her and her plus one. Later that night was when they would have to face the fact there was only one bed. For now, they had the mission to focus on.

She looked around and found him staring out the window, his hands in his tuxedo pockets as he admired the view of New York.

She cleared her throat nervously, and he turned.

Her eyes grew wide but she blinked, looking away at the sight of him.

She cleared her throat again as she walked towards him, a dazed look equal to what she had felt moments before on his own face.

She ignored it as she reached him, slapping the skin patch she had Adams create in his hand, turning her back towards him. She needed it to cover her tattoos.

"It's simple to apply," she said, closing her eyes, hoping and even willing for him to not make some remark.

He cleared his throat and she tensed up, ready for some lame Christmas joke, but instead she slightly jumped when his fingertips brushed against her skin.

"It won't work unless ya stand still," he muttered.

She stood still, not flinching as he touched her bare skin again as he applied the patch over her tattoos, his fingers pushing in to make sure it stuck.

He cleared his throat and she nodded, walking to the mirror and turning around, looking over her shoulder. Her tattoos were covered, the skin patch barely visible, a match to her skin tone.

She cleared her throat, sparing him a glance as she muttered "Thanks."

"Sorry, luv, didn't quite catch that," he said.

She rolled her eyes.

"C'mon, we've got a gala to attend."

He rushed forward to open the door for them, and rushed forward again to press the button for the elevator, which they rode in complete silence.

She kept her gaze up, watching the numbers change as the elevator descended through each floor, thankfully un-interrupted.

"Mark my words, Galahad, you try anything other than your so called harmless arm around my waist, and we'll have trouble," she said just as the elevator doors opened to the lobby.

He snuck a 'harmless' arm around her waist as they walked towards the main ballroom to the hotel, giving the paper invitation to the guard at the door before they walked forward into the thick of it.

They stood in the doorway, looking out at the large crowd. She felt his hand tighten around her waist and his breath on her neck as he whispered in her ear:

"You ready?"

To her surprise, she turned to look up at him, unperturbed by how close their faces were, their eyes inches apart… and she nodded.

"I think so, yeah."

He tilted his head, but nodded, his hand around her waist tightening for a second in reassurance before relaxing – but he kept it there.

* * *

 _New York, I Love You by LCD Soundsystem_


	8. Chapter 7: Fake You Out

_Sorry it's been a while! Thank you for reading, and as always, please leave review._

* * *

 **Fake You Out**

A string quartet's music filled the room, only slightly louder than the buzz of conversation. Expensive bouquets were in the corners, in place amongst the expensive wallpaper and lush carpeting. Small glass sculptures were the centerpieces on round tables with green tablecloths and delicate china.

Ana looked around and finally let out a sigh. She'd done this thing before, more times than she'd like to count, and honestly she'd seen more exquisite events than this. And even though the gala was for a 'Green' cause, it seemed the planners didn't mind wasting multitudes of energy and resources. Wealthy hypocrisy at it's finest.

She moved his arm off her waist, instead linking their elbows as they walked around, checking the perimeter and casing the place before turning them straight to the bar.

The bartender was cute but flashy, doing a 'Cocktail' bit: spinning bottles and tossing the shakers around as he made drinks quickly.

"What can I get for the lovely couple?" he asked as they stepped forward, and Galahad smiled, turning his head to look at her. Her heels put them around the same height.

"Old Fashioned, please," she said, and from the corner of her eye she saw Galahad raise an eyebrow as the bartender let out a hum of appreciation.

"Classic woman, I like it; and for the lucky guy?"

"Martini. Gin, not vodka, stirred for ten seconds."

The bartender nodded, raising an eyebrow as it was her turn to look at him. She figured him more as a Rum and Coke type of guy, maybe even Scotch on the rocks… She wondered what he thought what type of drink she was, but then mentally shook her head, watching the bartender make their drinks.

 _Who cares what he thinks?_

 _You care. Stop denying it._

 _No, I'm fine over here. Denial is fun, isn't it?_

She watched as the bartender stirred Galahad's drink before adding a toothpick with an olive as the last touch, bringing them up to the counter. Galahad's arm snaked around her waist again.

"I'm pretty sure that was only nine seconds," she muttered as she picked up her drink.

The bartender's eyes widened, taking her seriously for a moment before Galahad chuckled, his fingers pushing into her hip, tugging her closer even though they were already touching.

"My girl's a cheeky one, ain't she? Thanks," he said, picking up his own drink and turning them away.

"I count fifteen," he said softly, meaning the number of men in suits surrounding the room; security.

"Seven are hers," she whispered, taking a sip of her drink, made strong but not overpowering. With his hand around her waist, which she was sure he intended to leave there for the whole night, she'd need the liquid courage. But in the back of her mind a part of her thought she maybe even needed the support.

"Nicer suits, no visible earpieces."

She nodded. He'd seen the details as well.

"She's not here yet," he continued as she took another sip of her drink.

"Said she'd be fashionably late," she muttered.

"Yeah, but there's a difference between twenty minutes an'…" he brought up his arm to look at his watch, but he was holding his drink.

Without thinking she reached forward and pulled the hem of his sleeve back, looking at his watch.

"Almost an hour," she muttered, dropping her hand and taking yet another sip of her drink, acting as though nothing had happened even though inside her head she was screaming.

 _Why the fuck did you do that?_

He turned and stared at her. She looked around the room, trying to act indifferent, but gave up and turned to meet his gaze. His grin turned into a smile and she raised a brow. His hand tightened around her hip again, but he didn't say anything.

And for the first time in a while, she was speechless; she didn't have a sarcastic remark to make.

She felt a single blunt tipped finger trace down her spine, even tracing over the fabric of her dress. She glared at him, working hard at not visibly shivering at his touch.

He only grinned and she looked away, eyeing the crowd again as she also mapped the guards – Marsha's guards. Her gaze swept the crowd, but she almost faltered when she saw that one of Marsha's men coming out from a doorway, one that she didn't remember in the blueprints of the Hotel - was staring right back at her. He was larger than the usual man, standing straight and unmoving, probably military. He had the buzz cut and clean face to match.

She took a sip of her drink and gazed around the room before chancing a glance back at him.

He was still staring.

She gave what she hoped was a convincingly flirty wink before turning and walking away, Galahad's hand dropping from her hip.

"What's wrong," he whispered as he caught up to her.

"Guard at our six noticed me. Planting the devices will be risky," she whispered back before taking another small sip of her drink. The way the guard had looked at her…

"Why? He's just doing his job."

"It wasn't just a security look, Galahad. It was a 'look' look."

She felt his hand slide against her back and come to rest on her hip.

This time, she didn't flinch. She didn't even mind it, which had her frowning.

"Well that's just slimy. C'mon, love, we've got roles to play," he whispered, his hand tightening around her waist.

She took a rather large gulp of her drink, almost finished, but nodded while she turned to look back at him.

"Of course, honey," she said with a smile, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

He only grinned at her, but then faltered when a wave of whispers hit them, the crowd almost falling silent as the string quartet played on.

They both turned towards the entrance and sure enough, Marsha Valentine entered the ballroom.

Her son was crucified once it was discovered that his free WiFi SIM Cards sent the world on a homicidal rampage. Lives were lost, but so were entire governments; for the following months, most countries were under martial law before official elections could be arranged.

Marsha must've hired a hell of a team, because instead of the media crucifying her, Marsha Valentine was instead pitied and then revitalized the negative name towards donations and commitments to various 'Green' organizations that wanted to help the planet, and didn't involve modern Darwinism.

But nobody could stop gossip, hence the whispers.

"Poor thing, no one should bury their child."

"What kind of parent is she? Can't imagine raising such a… monster."

"She's doing better for his name. The world still needs saving."

And her favorite: "I bet it was _her_ that told him the world needed fixing."

She took the lead and Galahad kept up as they wove through the crowd and stopped in front of Marsha.

The woman was looking somewhat… angry, but it all fell away when she saw Ana, and then her smile brightened when she noticed Galahad with her.

"Oh my word! I've always wanted to consider myself a matchmaker!" she said, raising her arms and giving them both a hug.

Ana plastered on a smile as Galahad chuckled.

"Indeed. Ever since I saw those bright blue eyes, I couldn't stay away," he said. Ana turned and smiled up at him, ignoring the heat flushing her cheeks.

"Oh, that's adorable! I'm so excited! I could tell instantly when this girl couldn't help but keep looking your way – I knew I had to do something. Glad to see my hard work paid off," Marsha said.

Galahad shook his head, grinning.

"Not that hard, ma'am," he said.

Marsha let out a soft laugh and grabbed Ana's free hand, leaning in.

"I'd hang onto this one, dear," she whispered theatrically.

Ana only smiled, and then looked at Marsha up and down.

"You look exquisite."

Marsha nodded, running a hand down her stomach. The dress was dark green, a nod to the Gala, and was covered in sequins, with mid-sleeves.

"All thanks to you."

"The thanks should be ours, inviting us. I don't think I've ever had Lobster," Ana replied, settling into her role. Galahad stared at the transformation.

"The least I could do for helping me last minute! I hope you didn't lose any customers," Marsha said. Ana shook her head.

"With technology these days, it's no trouble. Skype, Face Timing, even online stores… I even once consulted a customer while wearing a blouse but also my pajamas and slippers!"

Marsha smiled and then turned to Galahad, holding out a hand.

"Never caught your name, dearie."

Galahad grasped her hand and gave it a firm shake.

"Lee, ma'am."

Ana watched an array of emotions flickering in his eyes as he gave the name. Seems she wasn't the only one harboring a painful loss.

"A pleasure to meet you," she said, but then Marsha's gaze flickered over his shoulder. Galahad looked over and saw an old man with a much younger woman on his arm motioning her over.

"Sorry dears, but I must make the rounds. Need to raise money, kiss up to old fools who don't think there's something wrong with ditching their wives for a waitress, yet also believe that climate change is a Liberal hoax rather than a situation that ninety-seven percent of scientists agree is the biggest problem for the continuation of the human species, etcetera, etcetra."

Ana nodded, and Galahad hid his surprise as she moved her hand around _his_ waist this time.

"We'll be fine. Go, take money from these chauvinistic fools and climate change deniers; go and change the world," she said.

Marsha nodded, kissing her cheek and giving a wink to Galahad.

"Enjoy the party, my little lovebirds," she said before walking away.

Once Marsha left, Ana let out a big sigh. He leaned into her ear, and was about to ask something before a voice interrupted them.

"Excuse me."

They both turned to see a short woman, an extravagant blue dress that she had noticed was the same one Marsha had denied their day of shopping.

"Hello," Ana started. The woman looked around, and then leaned in.

"You _know_ Marsha Valentine?"

Ana looked up to Galahad, who also seemed confused, before turning back to the woman.

"Well, I'm a stylist. She recently hired me. Are you looking for-"

"Did you know her son?" the woman asked, her voice dripping with gossip.

She froze, trying her hardest to keep her composure and not scream out " _I didn't know her son but I wished I'd killed him!_ "

"I once had the displeasure," Galahad said, and both women turned to stare at him with wide eyes.

"Oh, my," the woman said.

"If you'll excuse us, I'm not in the mood for useless gossip. Have a nice night," Ana said and walked away, Galahad following quickly.

She headed straight for the bar. She raised a hand and in under half a minute the bartender had her drink ready.

"Hey, are-" Galahad started, but she held up a hand as she took a few gulps, finishing the drink before she slammed the glass onto the bar.

She let out a deep breath, closing her eyes. Instead of moving his hand around her waist, he reached forward and laid his hand on top of hers.

She flinched, opening her eyes and looking at him.

"You knew him!?" she whispered. She knew she should leave this conversation for later, but she had a feeling she might let out her anger if they were alone. Better if they were in a crowded room.

The corner of his mouth tilted down.

"Yeah. I was…I was going through the recruitment process as he gave the news for his SIM cards."

She frowned.

"But what… how did you…" she stuttered, and he shook his head.

"Not now. Now that she's here, we can slip out easily. Let's scope the place."

She stared at him for a moment, but then nodded.

They managed to slip through a side door once an obviously tipsy woman took to the stage and started talking about the organization and it's many infamous donors.

The door closed behind them with a silent click that echoed down a long hall.

"So, ya think we can get an invitation to her place?" he whispered as they started trying the doors with no luck – it seemed all of them were locked. Yet none of them had a label, like every other door in the hotel.

She shrugged, looking back and forth down the hall.

"She's strong, but she's got a soft spot for me. Losing a child, no matter how much of a piece of shit they are, is a traumatizing experience."

"Wait, are ya actually tryin' to humanize her-"

"I'm saying she's easy to manipulate right now," she said, turning to give him the evil eye, "She treats me as a daughter. A few well placed words, some happy glances, and she'll be inviting me to her home, more events, even causal outings. It just takes time, something that I don't have the patience for."

"We don't know if we even have time – it's obvious she's plannin' somethin'-"

Galahad stopped talking and they both froze when the discernible sound of a door opening echoed through the hallway, making her heartbeat jump into overtime.

"Shit," they both cursed simultaneously.

She looked around – there was nowhere to go.

They looked at each other, and she took in a deep breath.

Fuck it.

She reached forward, unwrapping his bow tie and unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt. His hands shot out and caught her wrists.

"What in the bloody hell-"

"Put your arms around me," she snapped, tugging on the lapels of his suit so they were flush against each other, pushing him to the wall and tucking her head onto his neck, bringing up a hand to rustle his hair a little.

He got the gist soon enough, his arms snaking around her lower back, pulling hard so they were almost as one. He tucked his head down, his lips actually brushing against her bare shoulder, making her shiver.

She was about to call him out on it when they heard a shout.

She pulled back with a theatrical gasp, looking over at one of Marsha's men glaring at them – the man that had noticed her.

She looked to Galahad, a dazed look on his face, and then shook her head and giggled into her hand.

"Sorry, uh, mate," he muttered, his hands coming to button his shirt back on. She reached up and tucked his bowtie into his suit pocket.

"This area is off limits. I'll escort you out-"

"Oh, no need," Ana said, grabbing Galahad's hand as she started walking towards the guard, "we know exactly where we're going."

They quickly walked past the guard and through the door back into the ballroom, the Gala now in full swing; a singer had joined the quartet and the small dance floor was full. There was laughter and more chatter – the guests now liquored up.

She kept walking as Galahad tried to slow them down.

"We need-"

"The guard is going to report it to her – we need to leave, keep the cover as 'lovebirds', understand?" she whispered.

"Was gonna say we should at least take dinner to go. Said yourself ya never had lobster."

She stopped and turned to him, fighting a smile.

"Shit, that's a good idea."

He only smiled at her, rushing to a table and grabbing two untouched plates of lobster as she went to an empty table and grabbed a bottle of champagne. They met at the main doors and left quickly, the guards not even bothering to stop them from taking plates out of the room.

* * *

They were both sitting on the bed, enjoying their lobster and champagne, _Jeopardy!_ playing in the background as she moaned at the taste.

Galahad only watched her, finishing off his plate and taking a gulp from a water bottle. Seeing as Marsha was covering their stay, the both of them took advantage of the expensive mini-fridge.

She finished chewing as she turned to the TV.

"Who is Ruth Bater Ginsburg."

The contestant on the screen repeated what she had just said, and got the points. Ana grinned as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"So…" Galahad started, and she turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

"What's the… sleepin' situation?" he continued.

She opened her mouth to reply but a knock at their door interrupted her. She smiled as she climbed off the bed.

"Perfect timing."

She walked forward and opened the door to a hotel employee with a cot on wheels. She smiled and took it from him, promising a tip on the bill as she closed the door.

He climbed off the bed, grabbing the plates and putting them on the dresser next to the TV as she wheeled the cot near the window and threw a pillow from the bed onto the small mattress.

"Sleeping situation solved," she said, walking to the bed and throwing the covers to the side before she climbed in.

He just stood there, staring at her, and then the cot. He let out an audible sigh.

"Not even a chance of rock-paper-scissors?"

She opened her mouth to give a snide comment, but decided against it. Instead she leaned over and turned off her lamp, settling into the bed, pulling the covers up to her nose.

"Go to sleep, we've got a long flight ahead of us," she muttered, closing her eyes.

He thankfully stayed silent. She heard him climb into the cot, the metal creaking before the room fell silent.

She let out a breath, finally relaxing into the bed, her eyes drawing closed as sleep overtook her.

* * *

 _Fake You Out by Twenty One Pilots_


	9. Chapter 8: Dreams So Real

_Hello all! Sorry it's been so long._

 _Just another disclaimer since The Golden Circle is out there in the universe: this story is not connected to the sequel in any way except for the use of 'The Statesmen' for the American branch._

 _Enjoy, and as always, please review!_

* * *

 **Dreams So Real**

She was fighting with Jeremy – but from Nat's perspective.

He was coming at her, relentless, punches throwing left and right; she was barely able to block them. Ana hadn't taught her sister enough – why didn't she train her more in self defense?

She saw the knife he brought out from his pocket and pulled back, but he tackled her. She felt them fall, cushioned by the very soft grass.

She threw a punch or two but he blocked them, bringing his knife forward, stabbing her in the chest.

She cried out, her punches faltering in their power but never stopping.

" _Lincoln! Natasha! Dammit-_ " Jeremy started but she punched his Adam's apple, shutting him up.

He fought back, restraining her arms, turning them over so he landed on top.

" _Wake up!"_

She struggled in his grasp.

"Jeremy, let me go."

" _Wake up!"_

Suddenly, she was herself, standing above him, gun in hand pointed right at his head.

"I never want to see you again, Jeremy."

" _Please, wake up… oh, fuck it."_

Jeremy was in front of her, punching her face, but to her it felt like a slap. And the sound of it had her blinking out of her state, her vision and mind hazy as the pain on her cheek broke through, waking her up.

She blinked again, opening her eyes to the present, the nightmare fading away. She gasped when she blinked Galahad into focus; his face above her, a split second later feeling the rest of his body on top of her with his arms holding her hands above her head, keeping her restrained.

"I'm sorry… but are ya awake?" he whispered, staring down at her, looking concerned.

She flinched and looked away as she struggled against his grasp, but he kept a tight grip.

"Are ya awake?" he repeated.

"Yes. _Let me go,"_ she seethed, and his grip released. She pulled away and pushed him as she rolled over the bed and onto the ground. She crawled away on the scratchy hotel carpet, catching her breath as she sat up against the bed, closing her eyes. She was crying.

She caught her breath, looking over at him as he stood up from the bed and sat down next to her, his gaze unwavering.

She blinked a few more times, her final tears falling.

She stood up and wiped them away as she walked towards the nearest lamp, switching it on and filling the room with more light than the New York skyline gave.

She had already calmed her breath down, but she heard him still catching his breath. Was she fighting him in her dream? How long was it Jeremy in her dream, or Jeremy as him?

She heard him take in a deep breath, and she braced herself, waiting for inevitable questions.

"Was it… was Jeremy… was he abusive?"

She rolled her eyes, scoffing at the thought.

"Oh please, as if I would ever let that happen," she snapped.

He looked almost hurt at the comment, his eyebrows twitching, and she faltered, realizing her mistake.

"Galahad… who-"

As though their roles were reversed, she watched as his eyes grew dark and detached, and he shook his head.

"I didn't-" she started, but he interrupted.

"Yeah it figures, don't it? You know nothin' 'bout me, I know nothin' 'bout you. We don't even know each other's fuckin' _names_."

That stunned her into a thoughtful silence. She moved to sit on the bed, watching him closely as he stared out of the window at the New York skyline. She never gave a thought to fact that they'd only used codenames. She found comfort in the distance it created and just assumed he felt the same. He never really pushed her about her real name.

She wondered why they never gave their names. But to her… her codename was a cover, a blanket for her to burrow under and hide from Ana.

Just Ana.

Not Ana and Nat, like she had lived her entire life.

Just Ana.

But as Lincoln… she was herself. She was her job – nothing else to think about, such as the hole in her chest that Nat had left as she took her last breath.

She stared at him as he stewed on the floor. Somehow guilt crept in and she felt that she owed him something for interrupting his sleep. Something personal…

"My cover name, Natasha. It's… it's similar to a name of someone really close to me. I called her Nat. But I, uhm, well, let's just say I can't really handle hearing the name anymore. Hence my… reaction towards it," she said softly.

Galahad froze, his whole body tensing.

She looked over and met his gaze in the window's reflection.

He gave a short nod, and she gave one back, sighing as she stood up.

"We should get back to sleep," she said.

He nodded and stood up, heading towards the cot.

"No," she said abruptly, her mind making a snap decision before her brain could agree. They both froze and he stared at her, waiting for her to continue. She let out a breath, surprised herself by her sudden outburst.

"We both deserve a real mattress," she said softly, climbing into the bed and pulling the covers over her, turning her back to him.

She felt him pull the duvet cover back, the mattress moving as he climbed in next to her on top of the sheet she was sleeping under.

They both let out sleepy sighs, and the room was enveloped in silence as she kept her eyes open, staring at a painting of a meadow, seeming dark and sinister barely bathed in light.

"Stop thinkin', it's too loud," he said softly, his body readjusting against the pillows, pulling the covers to his neck, still facing away.

She shook her head against the pillow, her lips relaxing.

After a while his breathing settled and he stopped moving.

He was lucky; sleep came easily to him.

* * *

Loud honking and sirens on the streets below stirred her awake. She kept her eyes closed, letting out a sigh as the events of the previous night replayed in her head.

How much did she say during the nightmare? How long was she fighting him before he finally slapped her awake? How was he okay with going back to sleep with her in the same bed? What if she'd had another episode?

"You're thinkin' too loud again," she heard a soft voice and her eyes shot open as she turned her head, meeting his gaze immediately.

They were facing each other on the bed, but had managed to keep their distance, sleeping on their respective pillows. His hair was in disarray and his eyes were still sleepy, but he had a slight frown.

"What's ya name?"

She blinked slowly, her brain still foggy with sleep. That is the only explanation for what she said next.

"People call me Ana," she muttered. Then her eyes widened, mimicking his as they both realized what she had just told him and she turned her head to stare at the ceiling, taking a deep and grounding breath.

At least it wasn't her full name. But somehow, she still felt vulnerable. In a moment of weakness last night, she'd even told him about the name Natasha. Something was wrong. She was giving away so much of what she had worked so hard to keep hidden, she just didn't know what it was that had her telling him such sensitive information.

He had enough ammo to hurt her; she didn't want to give more. But it was too late.

She blinked, and furrowed her eyebrows. How was her _name_ such a sensitive subject? How had it come to this?

He stayed silent for a moment before clearing his throat.

"But it ain't your full name is it…" his question trailed off and she nodded, turning her head to look at him again.

"Like I said, its what people call me…"

Why was he so adamant about her full name all of a sudden? Nobody called her that anymore – Dylan was the exception but even then she gave him crap about it. Natalia was the only one who called her by her full name. To everyone else, she was just Ana.

If she couldn't have her sister, then others – herself included – couldn't have her full name.

He sighed, and she frowned yet again. She thought he would rejoice, the way he bitched about knowing her name…

"Lincoln it is then," he muttered as he threw the covers back, getting out of bed. She stared at the ceiling as his feet softly trudged across the carpet, the bathroom door closing and locking.

She shot up in bed, looking at the closed bathroom door, refraining from throwing something at it.

What the hell was his problem?

She climbed out of the bed and grabbed her clothes for the day: soft leggings and a black polka dot tunic, figuring she could step into the closet as she dressed in case he came out – but she heard the shower turn on.

She shrugged, taking her time to get dressed, repack her suitcase, and use the closet mirror to put on her make-up to cover her dark under-eyes and add some white eyeliner to make her seem more awake.

The hotel phone rang loudly and she jumped, moving her hand away just in time to not mess up her mascara.

She raised an eyebrow, checking the clock on the bedside table. They had two more hours until they checked out…

She picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

" _Natasha dear!_ "

She frowned as she brought forward a happy tone:

"Hello, Marsha! You looked wonderful last night, definitely made an impression!"

" _Oh, indeed. So many friends asked where I got the dress and who helped me, but I must admit I was selfish; I only gave out your first name and said you were already too swamped with clients! I just want to keep you all for myself._ "

She blinked, torn by the comment. She wouldn't know but Marsha had just saved her a lot of trouble with diving further into a cover and wasting time styling other rich women. On the other hand, the way Marsha had said it, as though they were close friends – and even thinking back to last night, the way Marsha treated her so warmly, so _motherly_ – the whole thing made her sick.

This woman was responsible for her sister's death. Or at least for her, Marsha was the best she could get with revenge – her son was already dead. She raised him: the man who took his mother's lessons about a Greener planet and reacted in turn, like a psychopath; with a twisted take on Darwinism and no respect for life. Well, respect for the rich and famous, at least. But no respect for the citizens that actually made up the world.

"Well, I must thank you for that. My schedule is about to get hectic."

" _Purely selfish intentions my dear; which is also why I called you._ "

"I'm sorry, Marsha, but we're checking out in a few hours and on our way to the airport-"

" _Ooh, 'we'! Such an amazing young man, I still love the fact I played matchmaker with the two of you. The way you kept staring at him – not that I blame you, hon – but… phew!_ "

She frowned. What was Marsha planning?

" _Well I wanted to treat you two to breakfast, I've got a reservation at Serendipity in thirty minutes, and you must join me._ "

She refrained from a sigh. She thought she was done for now, but she guessed not. She had to get close, so she should be looking at this as good news.

"Of course we'll join you, and I've always wanted to visit that place! It's perfect."

" _You must also be a fan of the movie."_

"Oh, of course! John Cusack knows how to choose his roles," she said, wincing and slapping a hand on her forehead for such a lame reply.

" _Plus, the name itself is perfect for the three of us. Me meeting you, you meeting darling Lee…_ "

She blinked at the name, still surprised at the cover name he had chosen. The way he had introduced himself with that name… it held meaning to him, just like Natasha did to her – even if it was a derivative of her twin's name.

"Yes, it is definitely, well, serendipitous, I'd say. A perfect ending to such a nice trip to the city."

Marsha let out a chuckle as Ana rolled her eyes.

" _Alright, I'll have one of my cars pick you up in… say fifteen minutes, and then he can take you to the airport. I'm already on my way._ "

She blinked at the statement, a grin forming on her face.

One of _her_ cars. A perfect spot to plant their devices. Finally… some real progress.

"That sounds amazing, thank you! That'll save us a cab fare and a raucous, terrifying drive to the airport. "

Marsha laughed at that.

" _The very reason why I have my own! See you soon, dear!_ "

"See you soon," she said as she heard the lock click and the bathroom door swung open. She hung up the receiver and stood up, ready to tell him about their new breakfast plans, but gasped.

"Oh, my god!" she cried out, taking a few steps towards him, but faltering.

He was fully clothed, in slacks and a white button down shirt. But what had her concerned was the large black eye was currently sporting. The black eye that she'd undoubtedly gave him in her fit last night.

She blinked up at him as he shrugged it off and walked around her to his side of the room, putting his folded pj's and his toiletry bag in his suitcase and zipping it closed; his movements were short, as though he was mad.

"Jesus, I'm sorry. That's why I-"

He turned to her quickly.

"It's fine, Lincoln," he snapped. "You ready to go? We can check out early, find a place at the airport to eat and fuel up."

She cleared her throat, shaking her head as she walked back to her suitcase, bringing out her make-up bag and turning around.

She was confused by his demeanor. He wasn't one to take the bruise as a strike to his ego – the blasé way he had approached for another round of fighting told her as much.

So why was he angry?

"Sit, there's been a change of plans."

He stayed where he was, staring her down.

"Marsha has invited us to breakfast. Sit down, cause I gotta cover that bruise up, there's no logical way to explain it."

Without a word he walked towards her and sat on the bed.

She opened her bag, finding her concealer and putting it next to his cheek. The shade was a little lighter than she'd of liked, but it would have to do.

She grabbed her extra beauty blender and got to work.

"Roosevelt was right when he said you were better at hand to hand," he muttered after a minute of silence.

She didn't reply, keeping her eyes on his cheek, avoiding his gaze. Was that supposed to get a raise out of her? It was kind of weak…

After a few seconds he tried again.

"Who's Jeremy?"

She froze for a beat, her hand with the sponge hovering over his face. She wanted to drive it into his eye, but refrained from doing so.

"Better stay still, I'd hate to ruin this shirt with concealer," she muttered. His eyes flashed as he grinned, but said nothing else. She frowned a little. This was personal information she wasn't ready to give up. Last night and this morning had been a fluke. It wouldn't happen again.

She finished up, using her fingers to blend it in as best she could, ignoring the small shivers that happened each time she touched him, but the job was done and the bruise was gone. Only if someone stared and got as close to him as she was now would they notice the make-up. But then again, men wearing make-up wasn't a big deal nowadays.

She tossed the sponge and closed the concealer, walking back to her suitcase to throw her make-up bag in, zipping it up again as she checked the time.

Five minutes until the car arrived. They should get moving.

"Marsha said she would be sending one of her own cars. We should plant our devices in the car and in her purse at the restaurant."

He nodded at that, and walked to his suitcase, checking the front pocket and bringing out the small box that held the listening devices with a direct connection to the Kingsman network.

She brought up the handle of her suitcase, checking around the room and ducking into the bathroom to make sure she didn't leave anything behind.

He was already at the door, holding it open for her.

"I can only hope that this is already implied, but seeing as our driver is hired by Marsha, we need to up our act the second we get to the lobby," she said as she walked past, not waiting for him to close the door as she reached the elevators, pressing the button.

He stopped next to her just as it dinged and the doors slid open.

"Who's Jeremy?" he asked again as they descended.

She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath before turning her head to face him. He really doesn't give up.

"Well, let's just say he doesn't mean the same to me that Lee does to you."

He flinched at that, turning to face the doors as he cursed under his breath.

She barely slept after her nightmare. And she wasn't the only one that had them… he himself cried out for his mom, and said the name 'Lee' so softly she barely heard it. There was another name he called out for, but it was always murmured and barely heard.

"You asked," she said as she reluctantly stepped closer to him and linked their arms together, letting out a deep breath as the number above the door counted down from the third floor.

As soon as the doors let out a soft ding and slid open, she jumped when she felt his nose brush the soft spot on her neck under her ear, an involuntary warm shiver making her shudder. Dammit, he got the upper hand again.

He let out a chuckle as they walked towards the desk to check out, and then through the lobby doors and onto the bustling New York street.

The doorman smiled and held out his arm to a black town car parked right in front of them.

"Finch?"

She nodded as a rather large man stepped out from the driver's side door and rushed around them. She almost drew back; surprised when she noticed it was the guard from last night, who she caught more than once staring at her. Galahad tightened his arm around hers as he walked them forward, smiling.

The guard gave him a nod, but turned and smiled at her, taking her suitcase first.

She felt Galahad's arm move to rest on her back and she looked over at him, seeing him frowning, as though maybe he also recognized the guard, who was now their driver.

The driver grabbed Eggsy's bag as well, putting both in the trunk and opening the back door for them.

She gave a demure smile, avoiding his gaze as she slid onto the soft leather seat, scooting over to make room for Galahad.

"That's-" he started as soon as the driver closed the door, but she shook her head, pointing to her ear. Even though they were going to plant their own listening devices didn't mean Marsha wasn't precautious enough to have her own.

"He looks so… tough for a driver. I bet people never honk at him," she said, finishing her sentence just as he opened the door and drove off, entering the slow moving New York City traffic.

Galahad scooted close, his hand snaking around to her back again. She turned to look at him and saw him staring at the driver.

She combed through her mind, trying to think of _something_ …

Galahad cleared his throat, turning towards her, their faces too close together so she leaned back.

"Think we'll get through security in time for our flight?" he asked.

"Mrs. Valentine has a friend at JFK, you'll be rushed through. You still have to go through security, she can't pull that many strings," the driver said as he made a turn down a less busy street, picking up speed and expertly avoiding any potholes. As though he was more than just a chauffeur driver…

"Oh, Mrs. Valentine must have friends in high places for that!" she said, sounding impressed.

He looked at the rearview mirror, meeting her gaze which sent a cold shiver down her spine.

"That she does, Ms. Finch," he said, adding a hint of emphasis on her name.

She felt Galahad's hand tense on her back.

She cleared her throat, nodding again.

They fell into silence then, Ana keeping her gaze away from the front of the car. Something felt wrong. Something felt… off.

"Here we are," the driver said, slowing down. He jumped out of the car, opening her door. She grabbed her purse, stepping out and nodding at him, muttering a soft 'thank you'.

"Mrs. Valentine will call me; I'll be right around the corner when you are ready to leave for the airport."

"Sounds good, mate, thanks," Galahad said. The driver nodded at him, gave her a grin, and climbed back inside, driving off.

Galahad's arm linked in hers, leaning in close.

"We'll plant the devices on the ride to the airport. We'll need to be chatty."

She nodded as they walked towards the entrance to the restaurant.

"You ready?" he whispered as he opened the door.

She gave another nod before breaking out into a smile as the hostess approached them.

"As I'll ever be," she muttered under her breath while they wove around the tables.

"Natasha dear! And Lee! Such a pleasure for you to join me!" Marsha's voice rang out.

Galahad's arm shifted to grasp her hand, giving it a squeeze.

"The food better be good."

* * *

 _Dreams So Real by Metric_


	10. Chapter 9: Here We Go Again

_Hello my lovelies! Sorry it's been so long, a lot has been going on._

 _Enjoy, and as always, leave a review!_

* * *

 **Here We Go… Again**

"Have a good flight," the driver/guard/whatever-he-was said, talking only to her as he placed her suitcase on the sidewalk.

Eggsy eyed him carefully as the man watched her, his jaw twitching as she nodded and gave another convincing yet fake smile.

"I'm sure we will," he cut in, tensely.

The driver barely glanced at him as he gave a nod before walking back around to the driver's side, resting a hand on the top of the car as he looked at her again.

"Ask for Mr. Prentice when you check in and mention Mrs. Valentine. He'll speed you through security."

She smiled and waved as the driver got back in, closing the door. As soon as he drove off she let out a deep sigh, her entire body relaxing. Silently, they entered the airport and got in line to check in.

She was wound up so tight during breakfast. She had hostility towards Marsha, dropping her smile any time Marsha looked away, her hands tensing whenever Marsha called her dear or doted on her... the whole time it was apparent to him she was trying to keep a deep-seated animosity at bay.

As Hoover had told him in the shooting range, she was on a rogue mission when he'd first met her – and lost his first fight in a while. Her feelings towards Marsha were more than just general anger over V-Day; she had told him herself in a moment of weakness that she had lost somebody close to her. Perhaps there was a connection, and that was what drove her.

But Marsha would get her due soon. They expertly planted the listening devices in the cab, hiding one under the driver's seat, one under the passenger seats, and two under the passenger headrests. They'd failed to get one into her purse at the restaurant, but it was a tricky idea in the first place.

And Ana did her job staying chatty, even complaining along with the driver and giving some stories of her vehicular travels in L.A. as they planted the devices.

Ana.

He got a nickname, and yeah, he knew he tricked her into it, asking when she wasn't fully out of her slumberous state.

But it didn't suit her; he wasn't satisfied. He wanted her full name. He wanted to know who the hell Jeremy was, having such an impact on her that she had violent nightmares as a result.

He shivered slightly. Her eyes were open when she attacked him during her nightmare, but he knew immediately it wasn't _her_ … it was as though she was someone else, playing a part even as her face turned downright scary when she talked about never seeing Jeremy again.

He touched his cheek as they walked through the doors, finding their gate and getting in line to check in. The bruise covered in make-up on his face was only one of many she'd given him. But he'd never tell her.

As far as she was concerned, she'd only managed to get him once – _while dreaming_.

He turned to look down at her, her fingernail scratching at the edge of her ticket nervously, her eyes moving around the airport.

Without thinking about it he reached forward, resting his hand on top of hers. She jumped so much that his other hand came to its now comfortable spot on her back so she didn't stumble. She nodded, calming down, dropping her hands but surprisingly not flinching away from his touch.

"I didn't like him either," he said softly.

Her head shot up, wide eyes meeting his gaze. And then her face transformed and he knew he'd lost her.

Her lips scowled, and her eyebrows drew down.

She turned to the front of the line, taking a small step away as he let his hand fall.

* * *

Their flight had been delayed an hour, so the terminal was packed full of grumpy people, anxious to either get home or to their destination.

They were sitting side by side. He was reading a novel and she was working on her report of their trip. She always tried to get her 'paperwork' done en route home, when the details were still fresh in her mind.

Her report consisted of almost everything; of shopping with Marsha, her drivers – including the 'friendly' one that looked like a soldier – the Gala, the unknown and locked down hallway, the success of implanting the devices in the limo. She, of course, excluded the fact of her nightmare and Galahad's resulting bruises.

She typed on, almost finishing her report, her fingers flying over the keys before he let out a deep sigh and slammed his book closed, making her jump.

He took that moment to grab her laptop right out of her hands. She punched him in the shoulder and tried to grab it back but he blocked her hands as he quickly opened a word document and started typing.

He finished a second later and pushed the laptop back onto her legs. She stared at him, and he gestured his head to the screen.

She looked around, and faltered. The terminal was already pretty crowded – with citizens sitting on either side of them. And knowing how most of their conversations ended, he was smart to write their conversation down.

She looked at the screen.

 _-How do you know about Lee?_

She blinked but didn't look at him.

 _-I don't know anything. Just that the name means something to you. I'm not the only one who talks in their sleep._ She typed back, and then handed it over to him.

He read it and then turned his head to look at her, his eyebrow furrowing as he turned back to the keyboard, his fingers flying as he typed his reply.

 _-Who's Jeremy?_

She flinched when she read it, and frowned, staring at the screen and ignoring his gaze on her.

 _-Like I told you. He's not…_

She stopped, deleting the words as her frown grew deeper. She couldn't even put it into words. But she had to. This was a chance to fully hide any emotions that would've come through if she told him aloud.

She thought over it for a few seconds, and then typed.

 _-You have the bruise on your face. Shouldn't that say enough?_

He adjusted the computer to rest on both their knees, but his hands stopped as he read her reply.

He turned to look at her, his eyebrows furrowed.

She turned away.

That was the wrong thing to type. He'd already noticed how nervous the driver had made her… and now this. He was good.

She was stronger than this: keeping everything a secret, not telling anyone – except Dylan of course – anything.

She looked anywhere but towards him, watching lone travelers, couples, families, all passing time in their different ways as they waited for the flight; living their normal lives. Not as spies, not fueled by revenge.

She froze when she heard the clicks of the keys, and waited until it stopped to turn back to her screen.

 _-I used to have someone like that, too._

Her head snapped to look at him, but he was pulling her own stunt, staring at the screen determinedly.

"Now boarding first class passengers. Now boarding first class passengers," the attendant's voice emitted loud on the speakers, making her jump. She saw his head shake slightly, a grin on his face.

Time for a change of subject.

She wanted to address why he was being a little bitch about her not giving her full name, but decided against it, instead getting away from the personal.

 _-Do you think we have good standing with Marsha? And that the devices will work?_

His hands interrupted hers and she pulled back at the touch, watching his fingers move and waiting until he stopped to look at the screen.

 _-Fine, I'll say it. What is it with you and your name? The tattoos? ME?_

She frowned.

 _-That's too many questions._

He stared at the screen and then sunk down in his chair defeated, his head leaning back as he looked at the ceiling, his lips moving but not saying anything.

"Business class now boarding…" That was her cue. Her hand shot up and slammed her laptop closed, sliding it into its case and shoving it into her bag, "Business class now boarding."

Saved in the knick of time.

They stood up, Galahad still shaking his head as they walked towards the small line forming.

She let out a sigh as they finally sat down in their seats.

He shook his head at her again, reaching down into his messenger bag, bringing out a notebook and pen, sliding off the elastic strap and turning to an empty page. He clicked his pen and started writing, obviously not ready to give up, but she let out a scoff and grabbed the pen from his fingers, sliding the notebook out from under his hands, quickly bringing them down and adjusting her legs so she sat on it.

He turned, leaning into her across the armrest, and she shook her head despite the close proximity.

"Too many questions," she said sternly, staring him down.

His furrowed gaze relaxed, but he stayed leaning in, his eyes moving all over her face before locking onto her gaze.

His head tilted just a bit before he pulled back.

"We've got time."

* * *

They stayed pleasant yet mostly silent the entire time they traveled back to headquarters – including the plane ride.

They exited the cab, the driver coming out to help them with their suitcases, only giving them a nod before he got back in and drove off. He was there at the gate, holding an empty sign, the indication that he was one of the Kingsman private drivers.

She sighed as she looked up at the large mansion, once the home of Balthazar Getty, whose past ancestor was an agent and donated his property to the Kingsman. The family was always continuing to donate to the agency, and with at least every other instance of new recruit's, a Getty name was amongst the new batch. Currently the namesake was Kennedy. The perk, at least for Ana, was free and unfettered allowance to both the Getty Museum and the Getty Villa under the guise as a major donor.

She let out a sigh, heading for the main doors. However, she froze when they entered, sniffing the air and letting out a pleasant hum.

"Oh, God bless him," she muttered, smiling as she let go of her suitcase, leaving it in the hall as she walked forward, following the smell.

Dylan always knew how to welcome her back whenever she went on missions without him.

"Who?" he asked, following her as she sped walk down the hall, checking each room before gasping as she found both Dylan and the cause of the smell.

However Dylan wasn't alone in the lounge, sitting at the main round table that the agents sometimes held poker night at. But instead of poker chips and cards, the table held multiple fast-food bags.

In'n'Out.

"Oh my god," she said quickly, rushing forward and rummaging in a bag, bringing out a cheeseburger and moaning after she took her first bite. Absolute heaven.

She swallowed, turning to Lancelot who was sitting across the table from Dylan, smiling up at her in amusement but also understanding, taking a fry and tossing it into her mouth. She took another bite, closing her eyes for a blissful moment before opening them again.

"It's been a while," Ana explained.

Dylan snorted, and she scowled at him for a second before she broke into a smile.

"And when I mean a while, it's more than two months," she muttered before taking another large bite of the cheeseburger, rolling her eyes at Dylan before winking; he laughed.

She swallowed and then stopped when a throat cleared next to her.

She turned to see Galahad grinning at her.

She scrunched her nose at him but motioned her head towards the table as she walked around and took a seat next to Dylan, grabbing a bag and ripping the top, using it to create a makeshift plate.

"Try one; at least it'll shut you up."

Galahad stepped around the table, sitting next to Lancelot, still grinning at her as he reached into one of the bags, bringing out his own cheeseburger.

She wanted to act indifferent but just had to watch as he took his first bite.

His eyes widened as he swallowed, letting out a hum of appreciation.

"Wow. Whoever complains 'bout American fast food hasn't tried this," he muttered.

"Actually," Lancelot said, finishing some fries, "it's a pride of the… South-West?" she said, looking over to Dylan as though just learning the fact. Dylan smiled and nodded, making Ana raise an eyebrow.

She knew that smile.

"Yup. Can't find this in New York," Dylan said, taking a bite of what Ana knew would be his second burger. He'd be taking extra laps tonight. She'd be taking twice as many laps tomorrow morning. But it was all worth it.

"I heard their Pizza rival's other states," Lancelot said, smiling back, and Ana noticed Galahad raising an eyebrow.

"Wait, we… met… in New York, and you never had a chance to try a slice?" Ana asked, and Lancelot shook her head.

"Huh," Ana continued, "Maybe _you_ can come with me next mission," she said as she took the final bites of her cheeseburger and smiled innocently at Galahad. He only stared at her, as though knowing she was trying to get a rise out of him.

He raised an eyebrow.

"That'd be sexy, but somethin' tells me Marsha's a bit too traditional to be acceptin' of a bisexual," he said, mirroring her innocent smile with one of his own.

Lancelot laughed as Ana acted as though she was still chewing to move her lips around to hide her smile. But the gleam in Galahad's eye told her he saw it.

"Well her son was a homicidal maniac… something tells me Marsha might be more progressive than others," she said, giving Galahad a pointed look.

"Well, this won't turn out well, my queue to leave," Dylan muttered, grabbing his burger as he sat up, turning and raising an eyebrow as he looked down at her. Ana only shrugged, motioning to her make-shift plate.

"Thanks for taking me to the South-West's best, Dylan," Lancelot said, and Ana froze.

They'd introduced themselves?

Lancelot turned to her, smiling.

"We thought it was time. I'm Roxy," she said, wiping her hands on a napkin before holding out a hand across the table.

Ana looked around for a napkin but instead just wiped her hands on her leggings before reaching out and shaking her hand, smiling at the firm grip.

Roxy leaned back in her chair and nudged Galahad, who only stared at Ana as he shook his head.

"How 'bout _Lincoln_ goes first?" he asked.

She frowned, leaning back in her seat.

"And how about you accept that I told you my name – which you tricked me into giving, by the way."

"How do you get tricked into giving a name?" Roxy asked.

Ana waved her hand, still staring Galahad down, his gaze equally firm.

"We were just waking up-"

"You slept in the same bed!?" Dylan said, his voice rising.

"Marsha only reserved one room," Galahad muttered, still keeping her gaze, unblinking.

"Hey buddy, hotels have cots, you know," Dylan growled.

Galahad and Ana stayed silent, not faltering from their glaring contest.

"Nope, I'm not getting into the middle of this," Dylan muttered, finally leaving the room. Ana scoffed.

 _Thanks a lot, buddy._

She didn't draw her gaze away and took a deep breath before she spoke.

"I already told you about…" Ana faltered, knowing Roxy was there, and not wanting her to know. She never wanted anybody to know, but she had slipped up with using the name Natasha. Maybe she should've chosen a different cover-name "her… and yet you barely told me shit about Lee."

"She knows about Lee?" Roxy asked with wide eyes as she turned to Galahad. He ignored his colleague and leaned in, his face angry.

"How 'bout you tell me what the bastard Jeremy did to ya-" she shot out of her seat, her hands slamming on the table, making Roxy flinch but Galahad stayed unmoving as he finished, "and then I'll tell ya about Lee."

She glared at him, breathing heavily.

"Sorry about the other bruises. At least you won't need concealer for those," she snapped, grabbing her second burger and putting it in the bag that had fries, picking it up as she nudged her chair back, chancing a glance a Galahad.

He seemed surprised that she knew.

As though he didn't wince during breakfast with Marsha while reaching for maple syrup across the table, or his breath leaving him when she playfully punched him after he made a crude joke in the car, playing along with the couple stint.

He shook his head.

"Y'know, I just gotta wonder what the hell this _Jeremy_ did to get your knickers in such a tight twist-"

"What the hell, Eggsy?" Roxy yelled out.

Ana's heart stopped and she felt her breath leave her, almost dropping the bag but instead closing her grip painfully tight around it, her knuckles turning white.

"What did you just say?" she whispered.

Galahad's glare instantly dropped, and he almost looked concerned. He tilted his head as Roxy frowned.

"I mean it's a nickname, but it's not _that_ terrible…" Roxy said slowly, trying to understand.

Ana took a step back.

"What name did you just say?" she asked, her heart almost beating out of her chest.

"Eggsy. What's got you worked up?" he asked, moving to get out of his seat.

She took another step back, shaking her head and clearing her throat.

"I… no… I gotta go. Nice meeting you, Roxy," she said as she turned and quickly walked out of the room, breaking into a sprint once she reached the hall.

Her heart raced, her mind raced as she ran, taking the stairs instead of the elevator, climbing down four floors and not stopping until she reached her temporary living quarters, slamming the door behind her and falling to the floor, the bag of food dropping from her hands as she crossed her legs and bent over, catching her breath.

Everything had just changed with one word.

Eggsy.

He was _Eggsy_.

Her mouth quirked at the name, but she shook her head, sighing as she stood up, walking to the bathroom to splash water on her face, patting at her cheeks and rubbing her temples, avoiding her own gaze in the mirror.

She had to tell him.

She'd given her his nickname and he resented it.

He'd, also unintentionally, given her his nickname and now… something was about to change.

* * *

 _Here We Go Again by Paramore_


	11. Chapter 10: Little Talks

_Hello my lovelies! Sorry it's been a while._

 _To be honest, my insecurities about this story and my writing have been keeping me from updating. But I wrote this for me in the first place, so I'm going to keep going._

 _Thank you for reading, and a double thank you to everyone who has left a review! You're the best._

* * *

 **Little Talks**

The sound of a kid's laughter had her looking up and then smiling as she watched a woman chase her son, still looking slightly unsteady on his legs as he led his mother on a chase.

She smiled to herself as she wiggled her toes, her feet burying further into the wet sand – it past her ankles by now. She lifted her feet and turned back, walking in the dry sand and sitting down, burying her feet yet again and sighing at the soothing feeling.

Her eyes strayed back to the mother and son who were now in a splashing match, the slowly setting sun casting an orange and pink light on such a beautiful moment.

Over the sound of the waves she didn't hear him coming, but he dropped his shoes onto the sand first before he sat down next to her, assuming her position and bending his legs, making sure to knock his knee against hers in a silent greeting.

"Galahad is Eggsy," she started after a moment of silence of them enjoying the sunset.

Dylan stayed silent and she watched in her peripheral vision as he tensed.

"Shit."

"Small world, right?"

"Miniscule. That's… are you sure?"

She nodded.

"Heard Lancel- sorry, _Roxy_ , call him that. After you ditched me - by the way."

He shrugged.

"I know when you're about to go off… didn't want to be there. And why are you guys fighting over names?" he asked, genuinely confused.

She threw her hands in the air.

"Hell if I know! I told him people call me Ana, and he seemed upset about it; kept calling me Lincoln, as though rejecting that I had _answered his fucking question_ – under duress, mind you – about what my name was."

Dylan let out a laugh, shaking his head.

"Christ, you two are a lot to handle," he muttered.

She looked away, not answering that.

"What are you gonna do?" Dylan asked, smart enough to change the subject back to the reason for why she'd called him in the first place to meet at their spot.

She shook her head.

"I gotta tell him," she muttered.

"You sound so honored to be the one," Dylan said sarcastically.

She turned to look at him, ticking an eyebrow.

He only stared at her.

"What's your beef with him?"

She sighed and then looked back at the waves, watching the water for a while as she thought about what to say.

"He…" she took a deep breath and quickly said the rest, "he got the one up on me when we first met. He brought a knife to a gun fight, and still got the upper hand. If it wasn't for my own-"

"It's not yours," Dylan interjected.

She clenched her fists at that. The butterfly knife she carried wasn't hers - it was the one Jeremy used to kill her sister. But she carried it... and used it - to exact the physical pain on others that she felt herself. She took a deep breath before she continued.

"If it wasn't for my own knife, or for the civilians around us… I would've lost. God knows what would've happened."

"You respect him. Just as much as he respects you."

"You weren't there after you bailed… the shit he said-"

"Respect. I can spell it out for you, Diana Ross style if you'd like."

She rolled her eyes and let out a soft laugh.

"Fine. Fine… but even so… I also want to punch him. How can you respect someone that you want to cause bodily harm?"

Dylan shrugged.

"Figure that's what leaders think of their enemies, right? Game of Thrones, Breaking Bad, etc."

She shook her head, grinning. Dylan was never too quick to reference those bigger than life shows towards their real lives.

"Doesn't negate the fact that Eggsy is who he is…" she winced, shaking her head again, muttering out a "fuck".

"But seriously. It's like your sexual tension could ignite a room if someone struck a match, but-"

" _What?!_ " she yelled incredulously.

He laughed.

"Oh please, denying it is just so cliché."

She stared him down, frowning, and he stared back, unwavering.

"Fine!" she caved in, muttering "so he's very attractive."

"Sorry, what was that?" he asked teasingly, and she glared him down, "So? I saw the way you looked at me before I introduced myself the first time we met, but look how we turned out," Dylan said in confidence, and rightfully so.

She gave him a wuick look before turning to watch the waves again. Dylan was gorgeous. In fact, looking at the agents from the UK, as well as her own colleagues, including Dylan… they were all gorgeous.

"Jesus, it's like we've been cast for a CW Network show, except for the odd black sheep," she muttered, reaching forward to slap her thigh, feeling her skin jiggle.

She heard a soft growl from Dylan, and she turned and gave him a challenging look.

She was the only one who could joke or talk about her weight. It was her body, she could do what she wanted with it, including self degradation to cover her own twisted insecurities.

Dylan hated it, though. He misunderstood, that after hours and days and months of working out, dieting, even once in High School going as far as to starve herself; that her body would never change, no matter how healthy the doctors said she was – and how 'unhealthy' she was to the strangers without PhD's that felt the need to give her their own diagnosis that being above a size 8 was 'unhealthy'.

"Oh come on, loosen up," she muttered. By now she'd thought he would've warmed up to her jokes on her own body weight, but it didn't seem that way – despite the years.

"Black sheep my ass. I'm gonna start a 'Self-Insult' jar: a dollar per deprecating comment. Soon you'll start paying for steak dinners on my vacation in the Caribbean."

"A quarter," she bartered, but Dylan ignored her.

"Not only are you the first female agent, but you're one of the best agents we've recruited in years: you managed to infiltrate an asset that the agency didn't even know what to do with – alone and on a _rogue mission_ , and you took two of their best down. Even last week during weapons training you swept the floor with Hoover and Jefferson."

She stayed silent.

She couldn't help it. But growing up she realized making fun of herself meant that anybody who wanted to hurt her didn't have the right ammo. And as Dylan rightfully said - even if gratuitous - she proved herself in every other way possible.

"Fine, fine," Dylan said, shaking his head as he gave up, "So why the beef? You're always so on edge with him. Why?"

"He wants to get a rise out me, which is _my_ thing. He took too much enjoyment playing a couple, and he didn't waver whenever I challenged him..." she faded off, glancing at Dylan who only stared at her, waiting for the real answer.

She sighed, looking back out at the waves.

"He reminds me of… me, before V-Day," she finished softly.

He could still joke about the simple things. He was just as good an agent. He didn't hide his true self under sarcasm…

"Hey," Dylan said, grabbing her shoulder to make her look at him, "you're still that same girl. Just…"

"Bitchier? Meaner? So weak that I have to use tranquilizers and stun bullets?"

He frowned, his eyebrows furrowing as his hand dropped.

"Christ, you're too stubborn for your own good. What did Natalia tell you?"

She froze at the name, her whole body tensing. He was lucky; if anyone else had said that name to her, she would've clocked them.

But the thing was, Dylan was the only agent who had actually met her twin sister. It was a nice dinner; her, Natalia, Dylan, and his fiancé Claire (who was also lost during V-Day). They all had dinner, under the guise that Ana and Dylan were part of a private investigative and security firm that restricted them from talking about their jobs.

"What did she tell you?" he asked again, searching her eyes.

"To not blame myself," she whispered, remembering that moment as she stared down at the other half of her soul, it slowly pitter-patting away and dying…

She winced and closed her eyes tight for a moment before opening them again and looking at the waves.

He let out a sigh, and wiped a tear from her cheek that she hadn't realized was there.

"You gotta keep reminding yourself of that, kiddo."

* * *

 _You look like an idiot._

He sighed and shook his head as he paced in front of her door, stopping for a moment, and then walking away.

He couldn't help it. Ever since Ana had learned his name – nickname – she'd been avoiding him. Just earlier that day they were at opposite sides of the hall and Ana had turned on her heel and walked back towards where she had come from.

So now here he was, like an idiot, pacing near her door.

So yeah, his name was Eggsy, but that name alone shouldn't have brought such a reaction from her. She looked… terrified. She ran out of the room like a bat out of hell, and he needed to know why.

He paced another round towards her door, turning around and walking the other way, but stopped short when he looked up and saw Dylan – Roosevelt – at the other end of the hall.

Dylan quickly walked towards him.

"What are you doing?" he whispered.

Eggsy raised an eyebrow.

"Why are ya whispering?" he whispered back.

"Because she'll probably hear, idiot. What are you doing?"

Eggsy shrugged, looking over his shoulder at the door of Ana's room. He felt a jab in his chest and turned back to Dylan, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't make me ask again," Dylan still whispered.

Eggsy shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets.

"I wanna know why she's avoidin' me. Thought I'd walk her to the kitchen for dinner-"

"She texted she's staying in. She's got a cough, doesn't want to infect the rest of us," Dylan said, his voice above a whisper as he grabbed Eggsy's arm and walked them both away from her door.

"But-"

"Give her time," Dylan said as he shoved him into the elevator, pressing the button that would take them down to the kitchen.

Usually there was a staff on hand, but not for all days of the week. And since the UK Branch joined, Washington had shortened their hours (but of course gave them full pay) for hope that the agents cooking and eating together would form a stronger bond for the mission.

Though it was Eggsy and Ana on the mission – and Ana was locked up in her room.

Eggsy waited to talk until they were in the elevator.

"You know how she works, why-"

"If you know that I know how she works, what in your right mind thinks I'll just tell you everything?"

Eggsy grinned at that. Dylan reminded him of Roxy.

"Nevermind, bruv."

Dylan gave a short laugh.

"Gotta love that British slang," he said as the doors opened.

Dylan walked ahead and Eggsy followed, already knowing where the kitchen was – he and Roxy'd had a few midnight snacks their first week there, still fighting off jet lag.

They both walked in and Eggsy stopped, looking around the room as Dylan kept walking and stood next to Kennedy at the stove, who was surprisingly stirring a wooden spoon in a pot.

Neither he nor Roxy could get a read on Kennedy. He barely spoke, but his eyes said everything. They knew that he didn't see the collaboration as a problem, but Eggsy swore he saw – or felt – Kennedy give him a dirty look or two. And then that had them thinking if he had a relationship with Ana (Lincoln). But it was Roxy, also a solo female agent, that shot the theory down: " _Even though you all know I can hold my own… you still feel the need to protect me. It's probably the same thing._ "

A surprising presence was Hoover, sitting in the corner of the island, a beer bottle in hand, sitting next to another agent, Jefferson, who smiled and nodded at the newcomers.

Eggsy walked towards the other side of the island, sitting next to Percival and in front of Roxy, who was mixing a large bowl of salad. She gave him a soft smile and added more dressing.

"Well now that I'm here," Dylan said, budging Kennedy and smiling, "We can actually start talking."

Kennedy gave a grunt, and put the wooden spoon down, picking up the pot and turning to the sink to drain the pasta he was cooking. Kennedy motioned his head towards the oven and Dylan grabbed oven mitts and brought out a pan of sizzling chicken.

"What I wanna know is why the 'woman of the hour' isn't here," Hoover muttered loud enough for the room to hear, his emphasis on those four words undiscernible.

Eggsy watched both Dylan and Kennedy let out a sigh – and he also noticed their hands clenching into fists. Kennedy moved Dylan out of the way as he stabbed the pieces of chicken with a sharp knife, moving them to a cutting board.

"This wasn't mandatory," Roxy started, always the one to try and dissuade an imminent argument, "this is simply for us to-"

"She ain't here like you, babe," Hoover started, and everyone bristled, Eggsy included, "that's saying something."

Dylan intervened.

"She's not feeling well. Traveling is the biggest factor for the common cold."

"He's here," Hoover said, pointing his beer bottle towards Eggsy, who simply ignored him, "and he's fine."

"Hoover," Jefferson muttered in a voice that mothers used to tame their toddlers from starting a tantrum.

"Nah, nah, I want to know why she's allowed to cower in her room while the rest of us have to be here," Hoover said.

"Hoover," both Dylan and Kennedy snapped at the same time, Kennedy cutting a piece of chicken with such force that the sound of knife on the cutting board echoed in the room.

"What?" Hoover said, holding his hands up, one still holding the beer bottle, in surrender.

"I juss wanta want to know while the holier than thou _bitch_ is not with us. I mean, it's because of her that the lot of you are here."

There was a long beat of silence, everyone on edge by the comment.

Dylan took a deep breath, and looked towards Roxy, Eggsy, and Percival.

"Unfortunately I need to take the time and say that he does not hold the same views of the rest of us. You are more than welcome," Dylan said piercingly, leveling Hoover with a gaze as Kennedy continued to cut the chicken.

Hoover, obviously drunk, gave a snort.

"Oh come on, she's the reason we're going through this bullshit. Low level cheating bitch – can't even use a real gun after the loss of her-"

Hoover's rant was cut off by a yell - his own.

It took everyone a second to realize why: there was a knife pinning Hoover's sleeve to the wooden counter of the island – but with a second glance the knife was held in place by a small cut of skin on Hoovers arm, a pool of blood slowly forming on the counter.

There was another second as all heads turned towards Kennedy, standing in front of a cutting board full of cut chicken, the knife in his hand gone.

Eggsy couldn't help but smile as Jefferson let out a "Holy Shit!" and Hoover started yelling and cursing.

Eggsy turned to watch as Dylan took a step in front of Kennedy – the both of them still as stone and with deadly intentions in their gaze as they watched Hoover cry and yell.

Jefferson grabbed a towel and put it on his friend's wound before dragging his friend out, Hoover's curses and yells echoing in the hall and then finally falling faint.

There was a collective deep breath as the room fell silent.

"I was going for the bottle…" Kennedy muttered as he reached across the island and grabbed the knife, tossing it behind him into the sink and almost magically appearing with another as he finished cutting the chicken.

"Galahad, with me. Roxy and Dylan, start plating," he continued.

They all stood or sat still, staring at him.

He looked back up and only had to raise an eyebrow to get them moving. Dylan walked towards some further cupboards to bring out plates and bowls – Roxy helping. Eggsy walked around the counter and stood next to Kennedy as asked, leaving at least a foot between them.

"My name's Eggsy, by the way."

"Yeah, I'm not calling you that," Kennedy grunted.

"'Kay…" Eggsy faltered, "Galahad it is, then?" he asked, before grabbing a fork and reaching forward – but Kennedy caught his wrist and held so tight that Eggsy fought to not wince.

"Not particular to anyone who gives Ana a chance to skip an outing like this."

Eggsy only blinked.

"Girl like her, dinner like this, she'd've planned far ahead. But it's you that's got her locked up in her cage."

Eggsy only stared back. Kennedy leveled him with a fierce gaze before slowly letting go of his wrist and walking towards the dining table nook in the corner of the room.

Eggsy gave a defeated sigh.

"I only gave her my fucking name," he muttered to himself.

* * *

 _Little Talks by Of Monsters and men_


	12. Chap 11: Hardcore Days & Softcore Nights

_So sorry it's been a while! A lot has been happening, and additionally I keep finding myself coming back and re-editing all the chapters I haven't posted yet. Especially with what's happening now around this story - it was going so many different ways and I'm still unsure if I chose the right path! Anyways, thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 **Hardcore Days and Softcore Nights**

She put on her workout clothes and made sure to check every corner of the hall so she made it without running into anybody.

She walked out the main doors, closing her eyes and tilting her head up at the hot Los Angeles sun, which was a gift almost every month of the year. Seasons were basically non-existent in Southern California.

"Heads up," she heard and turned to see Dylan fly by at a sprint, kicking up dirt in the driveway.

She rolled her eyes but smiled as she sprinted after him, it taking her a while before catching up as they started another lap around the grounds. They slowed down to a jog and took another few laps before she gave up at the top of one of the few hills on the grounds.

She fell down and lay back on the grass, fighting to catch her breath as she stared up at the clouds.

She heard Dylan fall down next to her, barely needing to catch his breath which had her rolling her eyes.

"I saw that."

"Yeah, right."

"I've got superpowers."

She groaned and sat up, moving into butterfly position and groaning again at the ache in her legs.

"So…" he continued, "I've got two things to tell you. One or two?"

She looked up at the sky, a striking blue and completely bare of clouds as she said "Two."

"Well… something happened last night."

"At the 'dinner'?" she asked.

She was so torn about whether to go or not, but decided against it. With her emotions so high about finding out who Eggsy was, she wasn't sure she could've put on a mask and acted normally.

"I wish I had my phone out to take a video."

Her head snapped to look at Dylan.

"What?"

"Kennedy cut Hoover."

"What?!" she repeated, her voice raised.

Dylan nodded.

"Hoover was spouting bullshit about you not being there, he was about to say what happened to you on V-Day, and Kennedy threw a knife."

She frowned. She took in a deep breath, and then frowned even more.

"Okay, the way you're telling me this story is as if I was there, Dylan. Details, _now_."

"Kennedy was cutting chicken – you know he's a broody cook. Hoover was at the counter spouting bullshit about you not being there and started to talk about V-Day, but then suddenly he has a large cut from a knife. Jefferson took him away, Kennedy tossed the knife into the sink, and it went back to normal."

"Back to normal," she said in a monotone voice, and Dylan nodded. "After Kennedy attacks one of his fellow agents, things went back to normal?"

Dylan shrugged.

"Hoover let everyone know the kind of guy he is the second they got here. There was nothing to really talk about."

She only stared, dumbfounded. She had so many more questions, but Dylan continued.

"Which leads us to number one… I had an interesting conversation with Kennedy last night."

"Do you mean before or after he threw a knife at Hoover?"

"After, of course."

She caught her breath and watched an ant crawl from a blade of grass onto her shoe, moving around frantically at the new environment.

She knew the feeling.

"All the same, it was interesting."

She shrugged, staring at the ant for a few more seconds before turning to look at him. He looked back.

"What?"

"So, did it somehow slip your mind that you requested a session with Mrs. Beltran or are we keeping things from each other now?"

Ana stared, tilting her head.

"Why… and how did Kennedy know…?"

"Okay then, my question has been answered, and we'll definitely talk about that later. But… we both know Kennedy has been known to have a session or few."

Ana nodded. It was no secret Kennedy was a Navy SEAL before he joined Kingsman, a year before Dylan. Even then, everyone knew Kennedy's name – they all knew each other's names. But due to his demeanor, nobody used his real one, only his codename.

Mrs. Beltran was the Kingsman therapist. The same therapist that she was required to hold sessions with after the death of her twin sister. The one who suggested that she use tranquilizer darts instead of bullets; which in a sense saved Ana's life because it meant she could go back on the field and forget about everything else.

In a tither, she'd requested a last minute session where she rambled about Eggsy and her own vulnerabilities about her name. But mostly it was to help her make the decision that she had to tell Eggsy that she knew who he was - if only partially.

"So… am I too forward to presume your impromptu session was about what you told me on the beach?"

"No."

Dylan stayed silent, but then cleared his throat, speaking softly.

"You owe him – not Eggsy – but _him_ , that honor."

"Yeah, I know," Ana said, but then shook her head and continued, "But I owe Eggsy noth-"

"I'd say in return for a tranq dart and by word of mouth what seems like a ton of bruises, I'd say differently. Not to mention your childish hate crush towards him."

She shook her head, not even dignifying the last comment with an answer.

"This whole thing is messed up," she said softly, falling back onto the grass, staring up at the sky and the few clouds.

"Well, as the wisest of them say: shit happens and then you die."

"Hey," she said tersely. Dylan raised his hands, but then nodded.

"Yeah, that was… too soon, I agree. But come on, I know that you know that you're not that type of person. What did I say about R-E-S-P-E-C-T?" Dylan asked, his voice rising to a terrible octave as he sang the letters.

"If I can get you to never do that again… then fine. Twist my arm – I'll do it. Though Mrs. Beltran got me to it first."

"Thatta girl."

* * *

She stood by the doorway, taking deep calming breaths that didn't work.

She opened her eyes.

With her hands clenched into tight fists she walked into the dining room, Washington and Arthur's conversation that she was too nervous to even listen in on coming to a stop as she entered.

They both stood from their chairs as she stopped by the foot of the table, moving her hands behind her back.

"Lincoln. I can only hope this is good news," Washington said warily.

She thought about her reply, and then shook her head, finding a new one.

"This is actually… unexpected news. To be honest, news I've held onto for a day or two. This comes along with a favor to ask," she said, watching as Washington's face drew tight. Arthur, on the other hand, looked intrigued.

"What unexpected news?" he asked.

She looked over at Arthur.

Had he and the man worked together? It was definitely probable. Maybe they'd been colleagues, and Arthur had survived V-Day to move up into the top position.

She cleared her throat, as Arthur spoke.

"If you would like for me to leave, I can-"

"Actually sir, I'm pretty sure that this news relates to an agent with your branch."

Arthur froze as he furrowed an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand-"

"Lincoln, if this vagueness is some trick to get me into saying yes to your favor-" Washington started.

"It's not a trick, sir," she said, turning to Washington, "permission to speak freely?" she asked, releasing her hands so they fell to her sides.

Washington glared at her in warning, but nodded.

"Permission granted, Lincoln."

She gave a short nod and looked to Arthur who was staring at her, his expression unreadable. She took in a steadying breath as she took a step forward.

"Sir, I found out that Galahad's true name is Eggsy."

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Well," he said slowly, "it's nice that you are comfortable enough to reveal your true names-"

"I'd heard the name before, Sir. Almost a year ago," she interrupted. She watched Arthur, waiting for him to realize who she was talking about, but it didn't happen. "I heard it from a Kingsman agent, sir, not of our branch, but, from what I could discern from his accent, of yours."

Arthur blinked slowly. And then his body tensed as his eyelids lowered, staring her down.

"Lincoln, are you telling me that-"

"I was one of the first to arrive on scene at the South Glade Mission Church."

Arthur's hand shot out to the back of the chair nearest to him, as though to steady himself.

She turned to Washington.

"And here is where my favor comes in. I would ask to personally escort Galahad – however if Arthur would wish it first I will be glad to accompany him – to said agent at Forest Lawn."

Washington stared at her, one of his eyebrows twitching. He glanced at Arthur who had both arms on the back of the chair, staring at the opposite wall.

He looked back to her, frowning.

"Granted, Lincoln. If Arthur wishes-"

"Eggsy can see him first," Arthur said, taking a deep breath, still staring at the wall. He looked… pained.

"Thank you, sir, sirs," she said, giving Arthur a final glance before retreating into the hall.

She'd made it halfway down when she heard Arthur call out her Kingsman name. She stopped and waited for him to reach her.

"When… how…?" Arthur stuttered, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"I'm so sorry, sir. To find out like this. I assume you knew his name-"

"Harry. His name was Harry."

Ana gave a short nod.

"Harry. He was…" she closed her eyes for a beat and let out a breath "severely wounded-"

"I was watching… his glasses were live."

Ana blanched at that, and raised a hand to cover her mouth. She shook her head, biting on her lip to keep any tears at bay before she dropped her hand.

"I… I'm so sorry."

Arthur nodded but then took a step back, looking down.

"Galahad and Lancelot are training, I believe," Arthur said, his voice strong.

She nodded, but stood still.

"Anything else, sir?" she asked, waiting to be dismissed.

She watched him nod, still looking down.

"Since Lancelot joined, the need for more applicable tools for a female agent arose. I brought some with me, and I'd like to show you when you have time."

She raised an eyebrow, but could relate to the quick change in subject.

"That sounds… that sounds very nice sir. Perhaps before the next mission?"

Arthur nodded again, but stayed silent.

"Sir," she said again, still waiting to be dismissed. He took a deep breath before he spoke.

"Despite your flawless mission, it is known that you and Galahad have a… rocky repertoire. I want you to know that Harry was Galahad's recruiter."

Ana blinked away tears at that.

Her own recruiter found her at Hockey practice, a sport she'd started for extra college credits but then turned into a hobby where she could let out her anger at hers and Nat's useless foster parents.

" _Are you ready to help change the world_?" were Mark's first words. Ana remembered thinking Mark was an elaborate joke, but as soon as the man who was pretending to be a College Sports recruiter showed her the arsenal he had in his own home, explaining that he needed to find a replacement after a knee injury – Ana knew her life was about to change.

And change it did. For better and for worse.

She imagined that it was the same for Eggsy and Harry.

Ana nodded. She raised a foot to step away, but then stopped.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow above his horn-rimmed glasses, but then nodded.

"The fact that you think my current 'repertoire' with Galahad will in anyway affect how I break such heartbreaking news of the loss of a fellow agent is, sir, downright insulting."

Arthur looked surprised at that, but then gave her a short nod, as though allowing her to continue.

"I know of loss, more than anyone in this building knows of. I know the feeling. And I know that the feeling of loss trumps all others."

Arthur cleared his throat.

"Agent Lincoln, I apologize for jumping to conclusions."

"Apology accepted, Arthur, sir."

"I will refrain from making such assumptions about you in the future."

"I'd advise that. Many a man has fallen at my hand with such… assumptions," she said, the corner of her mouth twitching, "Sir," she said, giving a final nod and turning away.

She brought out her cell to make a call as she walked towards her destination.

* * *

Merlin had predicted right. She heard the grunts and thumps of two people fighting when she reached the hall where the combat training room was.

She leant against the doorway, watching the both of them in action. Roxy was more mixed martial arts than anything, while Eggy's style was more boxing, similar to her own style.

So _that's_ why she had a harder time fighting him...

She frowned at that, but then grinned when Lancelot pulled a move that had her taken aback; catching a punch and using the momentum to climb Eggsy's chest and cross her legs around his head before she turned her body, throwing him to the ground.

Roxy rolled away and jumped to her feet as Eggsy started laughing on the floor and she dropped her stance, bending over and giving him a hand to help him stand up.

He laughed still, but it faltered when he met her gaze and he immediately straightened. Roxy turned and smiled as Ana took a few steps into the training room.

"Hey!"

"Sorry to interrupt the fun, Roxy, but I need to steal Eggsy away for a moment."

He frowned, wiping his forehead and giving her a confused look.

"Oh, so you do know I exist," he said, which he had the right to – she'd avoided him these past days ever since finding out his name, "but what exactly, little darlin'-" she rolled her eyes as Roxy slugged his shoulder, "is gonna make me follow?"

She looked at him with new eyes. Harry saw something in him. And – she would only admit it to herself – he turned out to be a great agent.

"Cat got ya tongue, girl?"

She took a very deep breath, clenching her fists behind her back.

"Nothing of the sort, _boy_. I'm just here to take you somewhere."

"And what makes you think I'd go-"

"If it's a part of our mission, I'd say you have no choice," she said.

He stopped at that, but then shook his head, staking a step towards her.

"Sorry luv, I'm not sure what-"

"I will say this only once: the aspect of _why_ will remain undisclosed until we reach location," she said slowly, acting as though he was hard of hearing.

He took a few quick steps towards her, crowding into her space.

She took in a deep breath and looked up to meet his gaze, fighting to keep steady.

"Meet me in the hall in ten minutes," she said, giving a goodbye nod to Roxy before turning on her heel and walking away.

Sure enough, she heard his resounding footsteps.

He ran in front of her and grabbed her arms. She tried to counter his movement, but he kept his grip.

"I told you I wasn't going to repeat myself again."

"What are ya on about?" he started, but then his eyebrows furrowed as his grip tightened on her arms, "If this is some-"

"You're gonna want to let go of her, right now," a deep voice broke their banter.

They both turned to see Kennedy walking towards them, his gaze downright scary; even Ana felt a little scared – and usually she was the one cracking jokes around the man, trying to get him to smile.

"This doesn't involve ya, mate," Eggsy said, and Ana almost winced.

"I will only say this one more time: let go of her right now, _mate_ ," Kennedy seethed.

Ana felt Eggsy's grip loosen and she pulled back, taking a step towards Kennedy.

"Don't snap his neck. I know it's tough," she said, giving Eggsy a side glance, "but he's one of us."

That had the corner of his mouth barely twitching.

"I know all about control, Ana. Hoover's still alive, ain't he?"

Her first reaction was that she stopped and blinked.

Her second reaction was to tilt her head.

"Alive but not unharmed, as I've heard. But do my ears deceive me or did you just make a joke, Kennedy?"

He looked towards Eggsy, his gaze dark again, and she sighed.

So close.

"Good call on letting her go," Kennedy said, and Ana winced again, knowing how this might go, so she interrupted by resting a hand on Kennedy's arm and saying one word she knew would work.

"Beltran."

Kennedy stilled, his muscles tensing under her hand as he stared her down.

She nodded.

"We're okay. I'm okay."

"Beltran?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She shrugged.

"We'll talk later, 'kay?" she asked jokingly.

"Looking forward to it."

She did a double take, and then tried to laugh but her laugh sounded more like a wheeze, so she shook her head. Kennedy was a man of very few words, and she wasn't sure if he was joking or not. But the look on his face told her he was maybe serious.

She took a deep breath and looked between the two men, who were still glaring at each-other.

"Both of you stand the fuck down. Eggsy, with me," she said, turning on her heel and walking away.

The two men stood still, sizing each other up.

"You heard the woman. Don't keep her waiting," Kennedy said.

Eggsy didn't give anything away as he turned on his heel and followed her.

* * *

 _Hardcore Days and Softcore Nights by Aqueduct_


	13. Chapter 12: Half Remembered Dream

_Hello lovelies, enjoy! And as always, leave a review if you'd like._

* * *

 **Half Remembered Dream**

Once she got outside, Ana only had a few moments to catch her breath and clench her fists.

She felt bad, having to trick him to coming with her – but he _had_ actually started it with his quips and ways to just try to get a rise out of her. If Roxy wasn't there she would've calmed down enough to tell him what was really going on – the situation called for her to tamper down her animosity towards him...

But maybe this was better… maybe this was the way she was supposed to tell him. Not tell him, but show him.

And then there was Kennedy and whatever the hell that was.

Their relationship was almost nonexistent. He was the silent broody type, and her, uncomfortable with any type of silence, always cracked a joke around him; trying to turn that frown into something else.

She knew it wasn't romantic. Stories and rumors floated around about how Kennedy was maybe an asexual – and from spending time with him, she believed them. But the fact that Kennedy was throwing knives in her name, and confronting Eggsy just now… she really wasn't sure what to think.

She had enough time to release another deep breath before Eggsy appeared next to her, asking her questions in rapid succession, none of which she even heard. She held up her hand and by some miracle he stopped talking. She let out a deep breath with a smile as she closed her eyes and tilted her head up to the sun.

She felt his hand wrap around her wrist and she moved quickly, turning and using her free hand to push at his chest. He stumbled back a step and let go of her.

"You don't get to touch me, understood?" she snapped.

He took a step forward, barely an inch between them. He opened his mouth to say something, a gleam in his eye, but the sound of wheels on gravel stopped them.

She took a step back as the cab drove up and stopped right next to them, the driver jumping out of the car and rushing to their side to open the door for them.

She held out a hand for him to go first, along with the driver.

Eggsy looked between them, and then finally climbed in, Ana following.

They rode in silence until the cab merged onto the 405, and Eggsy spoke.

"What are you on about, Linc?"

"I'm 'on about' nothing, Galahad."

There was a beat of silence before he repeated his question.

"What are you on-"

"You know..." she turned to face him, "basic etiquette tells me I should be acting a certain way, but fuck that. All I'm gonna say is I'm taking you to this location for a _fucking reason_. Please, for both of our sakes, understand that whatever is happening right now, it pertains to _you_."

Thankfully after that, the cab was silent, save for the occasional curses and epithets from the driver navigating Los Angeles traffic.

All until they turned onto Forest Lawn lane, and she heard Eggsy cough on a breath.

It was an agonizing minute or two of silence as the car drove past the gate and onto the grounds, slowly coming to a stop.

Ana leaned forward, resting a hand on the driver's shoulder before she exited the cab, Eggsy doing the same and quickly coming around to meet her.

She took a deep breath and bent down, removing her shoes and resting them near the back wheel of the cab; Eggsy hesitated, but then followed suit. She looked up at him, but he was avoiding her gaze. She thumped her fist on the trunk and after a second it popped open, showing two flower bouquets. She grabbed the one of dark crimson roses and handed it to Eggsy, who wordlessly took it.

She walked past him and onto the grass, passing a row of headstones before coming across a gated area, bringing out a set of keys to open it, and finally stopping in front of a tombstone.

It was blank except for the Kingsman symbol along with the words 'A faithful agent of the world, through and through'. There was only the year of death printed – the birth year left blank.

She heard an indiscernible noise come from Eggsy, and she took a deep breath to keep herself from crying.

"I was one of the first on the scene in Kentucky," she began.

 _The helicopter hadn't even landed before she jumped down, rushing to the lone body outside the church._

 _He was still as stone, the color almost gone from his skin, and the pool of blood surrounding his head still looked fresh. He had on glasses but one of the lenses was cracked, the glass embedded in the skin underneath – the whole eye a bloody and gory mess… she put a hand to his neck and felt pulse. It was barely there, but it meant he was still fighting._

" _Medic, now!" she shouted as she brought out her knife and tried to cut the man's suit sleeve to cover the eye – but it wouldn't tear. She faltered, and tried again, but it was impossible to cut. She blinked and tucked away that information for later as she acted quick, untucking her own shirt and cutting off a ragged strip and applying it to the eye after she removed the glasses. She knew there was glass, but there was no chance in saving the eye. The man's life, however – it was a possibility she wasn't willing to pass by._

" _Lincoln…" Kennedy said, standing above them. She turned her head to look up at him and raised her voice even more as she repeated, "Medic, now!"_

 _She saw Kennedy raise a hand and then lead the team inside as she turned back to the man. Once the other agents were inside, she heard so many expletives on her comm that she turned it off, instead focusing on the man in front of her. A medical agent was next to her, checking vitals and bringing out a bandage and a foam neck brace, gently putting them on._

 _She turned to the agent, who looked at her but then shook his head._

 _She frowned, and felt the man's wrist again… the pulse was still there._

" _Adrenaline. We need adrenaline."_

" _Lincoln-"_

" _This man still has a pulse. Get me some fucking adrenaline, now. It will wake up his brain – keep him from going brain dead. He can help us learn what happened here."_

" _There were cameras inside…"_

" _And there are cameras across the street, outside of the liquor store," she said, raising her arm to point it out. She'd done her homework during the ride - there was barely any time to gear up once Washington called an emergency meeting about a massacre in Kentucky. "But a first hand witness account is worth much more. Either call an ambulance or take us to the chopper now – we have back-up on standby to pick up the others."_

 _The medic hesitated._

" _I swear to god-"_

" _You gonna help me get the stretcher or not?" he snapped, standing up and rushing towards the helicopter. She followed and helped him extract the gurney. They worked fluidly, lifting the man up and rolling him back onto the copter, the medic making the announcement on coms._

 _She closed the door as the helicopter lifted off the ground and went to sit next to the man, looking him over._

 _Expensive suit, coiffed hair, bruised knuckles, cuts on his face, bullets in his suit…_

 _She did a double take and leant over him, reaching forward and taking a bullet out of the suit – it was crushed as though it had hit Kevlar. It would explain why it wouldn't cut too easy..._

" _Adrenaline, now!"_

 _The medic hesitated._

" _This man has a bullet-proof suit. Adrenaline, now."_

 _He blanched and then dug in his bag before coming forward with a large needle. He gave her a look before he winced and stabbed the needle in the man's chest._

 _He pulled out the needle and tossed it, turning to insert an IV needle in his arm, all the while she stared at the man, waiting…_

 _Instead of him coming awake with a start, his eyes slowly opened._

 _The hand she was holding squeezed tight, and his eyes met hers._

" _Where Eggsy?"_

 _She blinked, unsure what he was saying._

" _Eggsy. Where Eggsy?" he repeated._

" _Eggsy isn't here. What's your name?"_

 _He only nodded._

" _Speech patterns mean-" the medic started._

 _She reached a hand out and pushed the medic away. She knew the moment she saw this body that there was no hope of saving him. But she knew two things. One:_ that this man was not a regular civilian and any information could be vital to the mission. _And two: that this man was killed in cold blood, and he deserved the honor of true last words._

" _Eggsy…"_

" _Eggsy is safe," she lied, not knowing who the heck Eggsy was._

 _The man seemed to calm down at that, but his behavior still seemed erratic._

" _Card… the cards… the leg swords… the lisp…"_

 _She rested a hand on the man's good cheek._

" _What happened?"_

" _Lost control."_

 _She nodded._

" _Happens to the best of us, eh? Who are you with? Your suit…"_

" _Eggsy… I'm sorry. Sorry Eggsy," the man whispered, his color fading._

" _No," she said, squeezing his hands, shaking him a little. "Stay with me, I've got you."_

" _Sorry Eggsy," he repeated, moving a shaking hand into his suit pocket, bringing out a folded envelope which dropped to the ground from his shaky hands._

" _Please… stay here," she said, squeezing his hands again._

" _Sorry, Eggsy."_

" _Help me find him. Stay with me and we will find him. We will find whoever who did this to you. We will find Eggsy, please,"_

" _Sorry, Eggsy…" he faded._

" _No, no no no no no," she said, her voice cracking as his grip on her hand loosened and then fell limp._

 _She stared at the man, his one good eye fluttering closed. She watched as the medic's hand touched the man's neck, feeling for a pulse._

 _The look he gave her said enough._

 _She covered her mouth to muffle a sob, still squeezing the limp and now cold hand._

She heard a rough cough and blinked out of her haze, still staring at the tombstone.

"A medic helped me patch him up, get him back to the heli."

Eggsy took a step backwards, out of view from her vision, but she continued over the muffled sound of silent crying.

"He was surprisingly conscious, barely, but he was muttering something over and over again… 'Sorry, Eggsy'. So when I heard Roxy call you that name…" she stopped, taking a deep breath, surprised that her eyes welled up, "That's when I knew."

Eggsy sniffed, and her whole body shivered as she reached a shaky hand into her pocket, bringing out the same envelope the man had handed to her in his dying moments. She held out her hand, blindly waiting for him to take it.

When the envelope left her grasp, she continued.

"We knew he was Kingsman from his suit and the tech he had, but the stone is empty because we didn't know his full name-"

"Harry," Eggsy choked. He cleared his throat. "Harry Hart."

"We'll have it engraved right away," she whispered into the silence. "Like I said… I don't know the words. The only ones I do know are I'm sorry. And… and I know what you're feeling right now. And that this man, in front of us right now, is one of the many reasons why I met you that one night in New York. He's one of the reasons why we're working together, and he's one of the main reasons that we're going to get revenge."

She heard Eggsy take in a few deep breaths.

"Take as long as you like, we'll meet back at the cab," she said before turning and walking back, keeping her head down to give Eggsy privacy in his state.

Once she reached the road she dabbed at her eyes with the edge of her sleeve before taking the second bouquet of multi colored daisies from the trunk, walking a little ways down and turning onto a row of tombstones, stopping at the spot where her twin sister was buried.

She picked up the dead flowers and replaced it with the new bouquet before she sat down cross-legged in front of the tombstone, her fingers brushing the edge.

She took in a deep breath.

"Hey. It's me. Obviously.

"I talked to Mrs. Beltran. Remember her? I thought I played her, those mandatory sessions… but then Galahad turns out to be Eggsy and all of a sudden I'm the one making an appointment. So it turns out she was playing me the entire time.

"Therapists. Can't live without em… can't live with them if you're emotionally stable. But then again, who really is these days, right?"

She shook her head, fighting a grin, and took a deep breath before she continued.

"His name is Harry. On the ride here, for the first time… it wasn't memories of you. With Eggsy sitting next to me… it was memories of him. Finding him in that parking lot, the puddle of blood. You know the story I gave you – I tore my shirt on a nail… but I tore my shirt to stop the bleeding. You were so amazing that day when I came home. You knew I'd been through something but didn't pry and instead just made us margaritas and we binged Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt.

"I thought we might have a chance with Harry… the bullet went through his eye... it was my once hopeful self projecting as usual. He was so… torn. I… I didn't know that I'd ever feel empathetic to someone dying from brain loss after the fact – but I did. He was a test run for Valentine's Chip. He killed everyone in that church. I killed multiple people during V-Day.

"He was calling out for Eggsy in his final moments, saying he was sorry. The coincidence is almost uncanny…

"Kennedy once told me I was lucky that I was there with you. He'd had a fellow SEAL who… I don't want to repeat it, but now that I'm here, after bringing Eggsy to Harry… fuck – Kennedy's right.

"I was… I'm not gonna say that word, but that's what I was. Right now I'm trying to imagine what would have happened if I'd lost you and I _wasn't_ there… but the thing is I can't imagine it. I'm a different person now… but I'd be a total monster if I lost you and I was somewhere else. But now I'm here. And… and I'm a monster, even though I was there when I lost you. Held you in my arms as the life inside of you faded away."

She let out a sob, not realizing she was crying. She let herself cry for a few seconds more and wiped her face, rubbing her eyes hard before she let go and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry I haven't been around. I wasn't the one to end Valentine, but the least I can do is end his mother – the reason for everything in the first place.

"I miss you, every day. I wish I dreamed more about our good times rather than the one bad time. I wish a lot of things, Natalia."

She stood up, taking a few deep breaths, letting out the last of her tears before wiping her face.

She walked away from the tombstone and up towards the cab, where Eggsy was already waiting.

She reached the cab, tossing the dead bouquet in the trunk before slamming it closed, moving towards her shoes and slipping them back on.

She wasn't sure which one of them let out a deep breath, but she looked up at him to see his mouth open, ready to say something. She squared back her shoulders, bracing for what was to come.

Instead of speaking, he slowly raised his hand, his gaze unreadable but his eyes glassy as he squeezed her shoulder, his touch lingering before he dropped his hand and stepped away, climbing into the cab before the driver could open the door for him. The driver rushed around the other side, giving a consoling smile to her as he opened and closed the door for her.

The ride home was the worst kind of awkward silence.

They saw a nasty fender bender on the side of the road; two grown men yelling at each other over a dented bumper – and none of them said anything.

There was a crowd of people on the corner of Sunset, holding signs reading "Peace Now" and "Drones are killing machines" and "Oil = War" – but they said nothing.

Even at a red light, they both turned their heads to watch the driver in the car next to them performing an intense air drums solo as metal rock music blasted out of his car – and they said nothing.

The sound of a door opening and closing brought her out of her daze and she blinked rapidly as she looked around, seeing Eggsy exit the cab. She turned the other way to see the driver holding her side door open, smiling softly down at her – it wasn't her first visit to Forest Lawn with Jack. She nodded and exited the cab, emitting a soft "Thanks". He closed the door and hesitated, looking between her and Eggsy.

"First time you've brought a guest," he said softly.

Ana looked over her shoulder, and Eggsy cleared his throat and turned away, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah," she said, letting out a deep breath, "probably the last. The flowers were beautiful, thank you."

Jack gave her a small smile and nodded before he climbed back into the cab and drove off, leaving the two of them alone in front of Headquarters.

They both stood there awkwardly, not looking at each other.

"Lincoln-"

"Eggsy, I'm sorry-" they both started at the same time, and then stopped.

But then she realized what he had said and turned towards him, frowning.

"Seriously, still with this Lincoln bullshit?!" she snapped. After what she had just given him… he still couldn't call her by her name?

"What," he started, taking a step forward into her space, and she caught her breath, "I'm to use your codename, or the nickname. What about your real name?"

She shivered, in anger as well as their close proximity.

"That's all you'll be getting. Oh and by the way, you're welcome!" she seethed before turning away.

A hand grabbed her arm and instead of turning in retaliation and punching him, she stood still.

"Let. Me. Go." She was still raw from talking to her sister – that, and reliving the events with Harry… she felt emotionally and physically drained.

"Lincoln…. Linc, please," he said softly, and she felt something at the sound of her codename nickname in his voice.

She would never admit it to him, but she quite liked the sound of it.

"Please," he whispered this time, and she took in a shuddering breath.

He pulled on her wrist, spinning her around as his other hand wrapped around her back and before she knew it he was pulling her into a hug.

"Don't," he muttered when she resisted after a second or two. He squeezed her tight and she stayed still, resisting the warm feeling from his embrace; resisting the feeling in her arms that wanted to return the gesture.

She wasn't sure how long they stood there while an all out war happened between her brain and the stupid organ in her chest, her wrapped in his arms.

When he finally pulled back their cheeks brushed together, and he kissed her there.

"Thank you. There are no words… but thank you."

She repressed a shiver as he turned away and walked into headquarters.

She took a deep breath, and instead of following, she took the path that lead her far away.

* * *

"One mission, I'll never forget," Arthur started and then shook his head, smiling – leaving her in a short state of shock – "was, and I know this is a cliché, but it was that one time in Blackpool."

Ana raised an eyebrow as she took a sip of her Angry Orchard, glancing down at the two six packs they'd almost finished.

After Eggsy had left her Ana had walked to the furthest point inside the perimeter of the Headquarters, laying down on the grass and watching the clouds roll by when she heard someone approach. She'd sat up, a retort for Dylan ready when she stopped and realized it was none other than the head of the UK Branch himself, Arthur. His usual hunting sweater was off, leaving him in just a button down shirt and slacks. He'd even had his sleeves rolled up and was holding two six packs of Angry Orchard.

"Fancy a drink?" he'd said. She titled her head but then nodded, patting the grass beside her.

And now here they were, though Ana was sure it was a weird dream, more than a six-pack in – "Too sweet but it does carry a kick, does it not?" Arthur had said after their second bottle – both tipsy on their way to drunk, telling stories.

"Dude," she said, grinning in anticipation for the explanation, "you know I'm not from the UK, what makes Blackpool a cliché?"

Arthur grinned.

"Dude," he said slowly, as though feeling the word out. "Dude… such a westerner word."

Ana laughed.

"Us westerners, we love our prim language."

Arthur laughed at that and Ana watched it, wondering when the last time it had happened for him.

"Well, I was using the word 'cliché' due to the fact that you 'Westerner's' created it: what happens in Blackpool stays in Blackpool."

"Are you saying there's a British version of Las Vegas?"

"There's a whatever version of Las Vegas all around the world, my dear, the West just started the saying before anybody else could."

Ana took a second at that.

"Okay," she said slowly, "let's have a lesson on linguistics later. But now's when you continue the story in Blackpool."

Arthur nodded, and brought the bottle to his mouth, tilting his head all the way back to finish what was left before he brought the bottle and slid it into it's cardboard slot.

"Well, as it goes in the 'Las Vegas' of the British world, there were strippers."

"Oh, please tell me he had to go undercover."

Arthur laughed out loud, uproariously.

"Oh, how I wish, but no. No, Harry had to infiltrate such an establishment as a new owner, to get to the target who was a frequent visitor."

Arthur reached for another bottle but Ana shot out her hand and stopped him. He met her gaze and then nodded as he pulled back, resting his arm on his bended knees.

"Turns out the target was not only a scumbag in business – arms dealing as well as drugs, paying off influential people such as judges, the like – but was a scumbag client. None of the women were his fans."

"This sounds like it's going to be amazing."

"The mission went sideways and Harry had to use… unconventional ways to secure the perpetrator… and-"

"The women helped, didn't they?" Ana asked, her smile wide. Arthur nodded.

"The dancers are deceptively strong-"

"Deceptively?! They can hold themselves in the air by their _legs_ from a metal pole… I'm surprised strippers aren't recruited to be MMA fighters or better."

Arthur let out another laugh at that.

"Let's just say they used their strength to their advantage… Harry himself had to pull the women off of him to contain the target."

Ana took a second to obtain the information, and then bursted out laughing. Almost uncontrollably. She couldn't help but imagine dancers using their platform heels and toned bodies to take a man down – all along with a soundtrack of a rhythmic song.

She didn't notice Arthur had joined in her laughter until she had calmed down. She turned and saw a tear streaming down his face as he still looked to the sky and laughed.

"I might have a better story for you."

"That's enough stories for now, I reckon," a voice interrupted.

Arthur and Ana turned their heads to see Eggsy standing above them, looking down at the finished six-packs of the hard cider, and then up to their faces – pausing for a second before the corner of his mouth twitched up and he turned away.

"Jesus, Arthur, you're _drunk_?"

Ana only stared at Eggsy, trying to gage his emotions. However, he was stiff, his body and even his attitude as he turned back to face them, holding out a hand towards her.

She glanced at his hand and then at the ground. The ground seemed wavy but she was her own stubborn self as she curved one leg under the other, turned onto all fours and pushed herself up to a standing position. She took a step back to steady herself but waved her hand away as Eggsy reached out to help her.

They both turned to Arthur who glanced at the two of them, his face full of regret but also contentment.

"I seemed to have made a mistake," he muttered.

Eggsy opened his mouth but she slapped his arm and slowly crouched in front of Arthur.

"Remembering those we've lost – no matter what kind of way we do it – is nothing to regret."

Arthur blinked at her through his glasses and nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching.

Ana pushed herself to stand up again, proud she didn't stumble in her more than tipsy state. She held out a hand and saw another hand reach out. Arthur smiled brightly as he took both hers and Eggy's hands to help himself up.

"If I'd known alcohol was the answer for the two of you-"

"Sir, I'd advise you don't finish that thought," Eggsy said as he brought Arthur's arm around his shoulder to help him stand. He looked over to Ana, an indescribable look on his face that her anxiety interpreted as a judging look.

She immediately shut down, relaxing her body and face as she bent down and picked up the six packs by their handles and then walked towards headquarters, ignoring both Eggsy's and Arthur's (somewhat drunken) calls.

She had just reached the doors when they caught up to her.

The doors opened and Roxy and Dylan were there, both concerned looks on their faces that soon turned disbelieving at the sight in front of them; Ana holding two six packs of empty bottles, and Eggsy supporting his drunken leader.

"Lancelot, dear," Arthur said a bit loudly, "I'd like to take you up on your offer of tea and gadget ideas. Something warm does indeed sound pleasing at the moment."

"Oh, my god," Roxy whispered before giving a short shake of her head. She looked at Ana, then Eggsy, then back to Ana before mouthing the words 'Thank You'.

Ana blinked and in that split second Roxy was smiling brightly, walking forward to relieve Eggsy of their leader.

"Arthur, nothing sounds better than a hot cup of chamomile right now," she said, leading them both down the entrance hall.

Dylan looked between Eggsy and her, then back at Eggsy, staring for longer than what was deemed normal before he took a step forward and took the six-packs from her hands, also disappearing down the hall, the main doors closing behind him.

"What in the fresh hell was that?!" Ana asked, turning her back to Eggsy instead of facing him.

Turns out he was the braver one at the moment as he came around to face her.

"What, the part where you got my leader _drunk_? Or the other part which I have no idea of… because _you got my leader drunk_."

"You told Roxy," was all she said.

He blinked at that, but then nodded.

"She's my Dylan."

Ana tilted her head at that, the corner of her mouth twitching at the thought that Eggsy was trying to relate.

"He came to me with the alcohol. He's a superior officer, who am I to deny-"

"He was _laughing_ , Linc."

She shrugged but then grinned.

"I'm not sure if you yourself has partaken in such an activity, but usually when one consumes alcohol, moods can-"

"Cut the shit, what were you guys talking about?"

She blinked her hazy thoughts away.

"Harry," she said simply.

Eggsy did a double take.

"You were talking about… him…" his voice faltered.

"He was telling me about a mission in Blackpool-"

" _Blackpool_?!" Eggsy shouted and Ana raised her eyebrows.

"Damn, I need to go to Blackpool, seems like a riot."

"Look, even though I knew you read the letter, I appreciate-"

Due to her state, it took her longer to realize what he had said, but when she did she executed a rough punch to his gut.

He let out a strained breath as he took a step back and bent over, holding his stomach.

"First asleep, now drunk?" he muttered to himself.

"You really think that of me?" she spat, even literally.

He raised his head and stared at her.

"You're tellin' me you kept that envelope this whole time and never opened it."

She frowned at him, the feeling to cause bodily harm strong through her veins.

"It wasn't addressed to me, you fucker. Harry's dying words were for Eggsy. Not me, not anyone else, and the letter was the same."

"You didn't read it?"

She clenched and unclenched her fists.

"To prevent our already strained relationship from further deteriorating, I'm going to walk away now. I highly suggest you don't follow me."

She turned - maybe a little too quickly as she stumbled a bit, but kept walking. Through the doors and down the hall to the elevator. She imagined a long shower and some binging of a comedy, she wasn't sure if she wanted to start The Office over again or try Seinfeld when she heard footsteps following her.

She reached forward and missed the elevator button. A hand reached from behind to press it.

"I told you not to follow me," she said softly.

"I know," Eggsy replied, "but I barely understood what you said, you were slurring."

"Damn. I was so eloquent, too," she muttered. Eggsy laughed softly.

The elevator doors opened and she walked through, Eggsy following.

She leant against the wall as the elevator descended. They rode in silence.

There was a ding as the doors opened again, and Eggsy dared to rest his had lightly on her back and guide her to her room.

He reached for the doorknob before she could, standing close behind her.

"I'm sorry I accused you of reading it," he said softly, "I think a part of me is more upset than relieved that you were there in his final moments."

She turned her head, and immediately thought 'Mistake!' when she noticed how close he was, and she was seeing him in a new way. The small gold flecks in his eyes. A small scar on his eyebrow.

"Relieved?" she whispered.

He tilted his head.

"When you want to, you have a calming demeanor. I've seen it. You are... hard and unbreakable, but you've got a heart."

She blinked, and furrowed her eyebrows, unsure what to feel about his comment.

"Don't punch me for saying that."

"I think... I think I'm too drunk for that," she said.

He smiled, and she blinked at the sight so close.

"Get some rest. We'll discuss getting my leader drunk later."

She opened the door and stepped through the threshold, turning around and using the door to keep her balance. Eggsy had taken a few steps away.

"Galahad," she called out. He stopped and turned slowly, his face reproachful.

"Get Washington drunk and we'll call it even."

His mouth slowly transformed into a grin.

"Challenge accepted."

* * *

 _Thank you for reading and reviewing! I also accept and read all messages!_ _Now, it's not a promise but I might send out updates sooner rather than later, I had an idea for a mission that I'm excited to write and finish, and I feel if I send out chapters and get closer to it, it will make me write it! Hope that makes sense._

 _Half Remembered Dream by Hanz Zimmer_


	14. Chapter 13: Goodnight, Goodnight

**Goodnight, Goodnight**

She slammed the door closed before the driver had a chance to do it for her. She muttered a sorry as she grabbed her bags and watched the cab drive away, leaving plumes of dust in its trail.

She took a few big, deep, breaths and then let out a sharp yell, the sound lost in the breeze. She straightened her shoulders as she walked towards the doors, ready for a long bath accompanied with a box of wine that she'd bought duty free at the airport.

The doors opened just as she reached for the handle, revealing Dylan with a concerned look on his face. He met her gaze and crossed his arms.

She gave him a death glare as she passed him, but he ignored her warning and caught up to her, walking along as she made her way to the elevators.

"You know, when agents go radio silent, that means for the duration of the mission. Not the _entire trip_."

She ignored him and reached the elevator, pushing the button. The hum of the gears sounded, and she tapped her foot, waiting.

"Ana…" Dylan started.

"Not now."

"I know you're not one to follow protocol, Ana but, christ, do you know how worried I – hell, _all_ of us were?"

"Oh so first it's 'you can handle yourself' and then the next it's 'you need help'?"

There was a beat of silence.

"That bad, huh?" Dylan asked.

The elevator doors opened with a ding and they both got on. She waited until the doors closed before Ana let out another sharp, fast yell.

"Okay, it was worse," Dylan muttered to himself.

"I was like Jason fucking Bourne, looking around and thinking up new ideas for weapons. Oh, that pen could go through her eye. With the right force, maybe this sculpture could bash in her skull. If I take apart this clipboard, I could maybe slice her throat."

Both she and Dylan took deep a deep breath together.

"We've both been on countless missions," she started, "thick and thin. Undercover or not," she paused and shook her head, "this was by far the hardest. Spending countless time, alone, with the woman that I want to kill all the while fawning over her and pretending I give a shit about what _dress_ she wears. And the worst part? Marsha said she doesn't have anything planned for a few months – so I'm back at page one, which is _nowhere_ close to bringing her to justice."

Ana was coming back from a solo mission in New York. It seemed that Marsha Valentine was in dire need of a stylist for a simple family cocktail party. They went through the rounds again, visiting dress stores to find a simple black cocktail dress that could've easily been ordered online – but that was not the prerogative of someone within the 1%. No, they needed to overpay a salary for someone in person to tell them they'd made the right choice along with buying a dress that cost the equal amount it would take to feed a family of six for a month – probably two.

But it was Ana's cover, one that gave her much appreciation for real stylists; not just for having to deal with such people but also for the con job they were pulling.

And even worse, she was _invited_ to the party. So not only was she in the presence of the monster's mother, but of the uncles and aunts and even third cousins – who all pretended that there wasn't a huge red mark on their family, that one of their own had committed one of the most heinous acts of the 21st century, what was termed as the "new modern mass genocide".

Instead all they talked about was Amazon stocks, 'Global Warming' which they stupidly and unfortunately considered a hoax, that Napa Valley was the new hotspot for seasonal homes, and the new versions of Boeing Jets that were apparently all the rage for those who earned more than three million dollars a year.

Ana herself was surprised she'd made it out alive and without gutting the last man who had said 'If you can't survive on a minimum wage, then it means you're just spending excessively' while wearing a thousand dollar suit.

There was a beat of silence, and the elevator doors opened. Ana was on the move again, Dylan following.

"Well, you did set the cover-"

"Don't-"

"Come on, your rogue mission of revenge for Nat led you-"

"And Claire."

Dylan stopped talking… in fact stopped moving. Ana dropped her bags in front of the door to her room and walked back to him, getting in close, her eyes glaring through him.

"You actually thought going after her was only about me?" she asked in a stern voice.

Dylan stared down at her.

"We both keep forgetting, you knew Nat…" she took a deep breath, "and I knew Claire."

Dylan's eyes changed, going softer.

"My mission to New York wasn't just about Nat, Dylan. And just as you were insulted that I didn't ask you to come with me, I'm insulted that you think I went for only one reason."

"Ana-"

"For Claire, Dylan."

He stopped, his eyes turning dark, just the same as she did whenever she heard her twin sister's name.

"There were multiple reasons I executed that rogue mission. But at the forefront… it was _them_."

Someone clearing their throat echoed down the hall, and they both turned to see Eggsy in a white shirt and slacks, looking awkward with his hands in his pockets. He freed his hands and stood there for a second before clearing his throat again and putting his hands back where they were.

Ana let out a deep breath and turned away.

"Hey," Dylan said lamely.

"Hey," Eggsy replied, taking a few steps forward.

There were more than a couple moments of awkward silence.

"Lincoln, how did-"

"Not now," Dylan intervened.

Eggsy raised an eyebrow, but took a step or two closer, his gaze on her.

Since she took him to Forest Lawn and then got his leader drunk, their repertoire was… different. Before they were circling each other, ready for a fight at the last second. But now… it was as though they were walking on eggshells.

"You 'kay?" he asked, looking only at her.

She opened her mouth to reply but Dylan interrupted.

"She just spent a few days with the woman half-responsible for the largest genocide in humanity's history, how do you think she is?" Dylan asked.

Ana rolled her eyes and pushed Dylan away, surprising even herself as she took a tentative step towards Eggsy.

"He's right… so… yeah. I've been better."

Eggsy continued to stare at her, but then nodded, taking a step back.

"If you can, forward the mission report – two eyes are better than one."

She gave a nod.

He gave a nod back, looked at Dylan and gave another nod, and then walked backwards a few steps before turning and leaving. He turned the corner and both Ana and Dylan listened to the sound of his footsteps fade away.

She sighed and brought out the key to her room, opening the door before she grabbed her bags and dumped them on the floor next to her small bed.

"Uhm, what in the fresh hell was that?"

"Fresh hell is an oxymoron," she muttered as she slipped off her shoes and fell onto the bed, letting out a deep breath.

Dylan walked forward and sat at her hip, staring her down.

She moved her arm to cover her eyes.

"You were like awkward coworkers who've unintentionally seen each others nudes or something."

She lifted her arm to give him a glare, and then rest it back down.

"Ever since Harry's grave, we've both been… wary."

"Don't forget you got got Arthur drunk."

"That was him! He brought the cider, not me. I mean who the fuck buys hard cider with the intention of getting drunk? It's a tipsy kind of drink, everyone knows that."

Dylan took a deep breath before speaking.

"Well, it's a turn from before. I'm just not sure which one I liked more. I mean that was just… _weird_."

"You're telling me!"

There was a beat of silence.

"But for me, I prefer what we were before," she said softly, almost at a whisper, "Now he's just… gentle. And he knows the name Jeremy."

"What?!"

"Yeah, exactly. Nightmares are a bitch, right?"

"Ana, this is…"

"It'll be nothing. He now knows the name Jeremy is on the same level as Nat. He won't say them again with me around – he knows the repercussions."

"Bruises. You mean bruises."

She frowned and sat up on the bed, facing Dylan.

"Was that… disappointment I heard in your tone?"

Dylan stared at her, as though waiting for her to come to a realization. When that didn't happen, he sighed.

"It's apparent to everyone but the two of you that you'd make an unstoppable team. And not only that, but you have to know what your own attitude-"

"Okay, if I want a therapy session, I'll call Mrs. Beltran."

Dylan slightly tilted his head.

"Friends are each others pseudo therapists."

"Well, then tone it down."

Dylan drew back. Ana let out a sigh.

"Please, understand I've got jet lag; I've had to spend the last couple of days with a woman I kept alive while every minute thinking of different ways to kill her. And then I come home to Eggsy acting… whatever the hell he was acting like. It's too much, Dylan."

There was a long beat of silence.

"Can I stay?" Dylan asked.

Ana nodded instantly, blinking away wet eyes of gratitude.

After V-Day, the two of them had a hard time sleeping. Ana would turn to a weed brownie or a bottle of wine to suppress her nightmares. For Dylan it got as intense as him sleeping outside in the grass.

That's when she dragged him to an empty room in headquarters with a full bed where they could platonically cuddle but also sleep separate. There was something infinitely relaxing about cuddling with a friend – no expectations, no innuendos. Just two people sharing comfort and warmth, even if sleeping back to back.

She went to the bathroom to wash her face as Dylan toed his shoes off.

They climbed onto the bed, Ana the big spoon, and they both rested their eyes, soon falling asleep.

When Ana woke up she was alone, a small post-it on the pillow reading ' _Until next time. Knowing how long you'll sleep, check for leftovers in the kitchen fridge_.'

She frowned, but her stomach growled as she checked her watch, telling her it was almost midnight.

She slowly got out of the bed, rubbing her eyes and forgoing slippers as she walked out of her room, barefoot and in wrinkled clothes as she took the elevator to the main floor. Her bare feet echoed in the halls as she made her way to the kitchen available to agents.

Still a little doozy from her nap, she muttered to herself that it better not be Thai food in the fridge, but then let out a sigh of relief after she opened the door and saw a Tupperware container with a post-it reading her name – gnocchi and chicken parmesan inside.

She grabbed the container, the chill from the fridge waking her up slightly. She closed the fridge door and nearly lost her mind when she saw Roxy sitting at the island counter, a bowl of cereal in front of her.

She looked chagrined.

"I said hey, but I reckon you didn't see nor hear me."

Ana nodded, grumbling an apology as she brought out an oven safe dish, transferring the food and setting the heat and the timer as she put it in the oven.

She moved to sit next to Roxy, eyeing the bowl and seeing it was Coco Puffs.

"I hope I didn't steal from anyone's stash-" Roxy started.

"It's Hoover's, so who cares. We all eat it, it drives him insane."

Roxy nodded, smiling around a spoonful of the cereal, chewing and swallowing before she spoke.

"From the time I've spent in his company, can't say I blame you," Roxy said, which had Ana laughing.

"I'm Ana, by the way."

Roxy nodded.

"Got it from Eggsy, after you… left."

"I ran, but thanks for toning it down."

"Well," Roxy said, moving the spoon around the bowl, "you had a good reason."

Ana stopped, but then connected the dots quickly.

"Ah. So you know."

"Yeah. What I've got with Eggsy is what you've got with Dylan," she said with a smile as she took a spoonful and started chewing.

Ana nodded and grinned at that, glad that the only other female agent knew that friendship with a fellow male agent didn't immediately mean a romantic one, despite what societal norms had taught everyone.

"We were even recruited from the same group."

Ana raised an eyebrow at that.

"How is that possible? Only one recruit from each group gets a spot."

Roxy shrugged, moving her spoon around the bowl, the milk turning chocolate.

"It's a complicated story. Honestly, one that you should hear from him."

Ana rolled her eyes to herself.

"That's up to him."

Roxy turned to look at her.

"What does that mean?"

Ana shrugged.

"Ever since Harry's grave… he's been different."

"I know."

Ana waited for Roxy to continue, and when she didn't, Ana cleared her throat.

"Care to elaborate?" Ana asked.

Roxy looked at her cereal, and then took a deep breath.

"He… _feels_ a lot. His upbringing, his family, the people who tried to tear his family apart…" Roxy took a spoonful of cereal and chewed it quickly before continuing, "He was different after Harry's loss. He became an Agent, yet there was still something there."

Ana watched Roxy warring with herself on what to say and what not to say.

In horrible timing, the oven beeped that it was finished. Ana jumped up, grabbing oven mitts as she brought out the dish, grabbing utensils and sitting next to Roxy again, not bothering to transfer it onto a plate.

"That… something is gone, at least that's what I think," Roxy finished.

Ana blinked at that.

"So that's why he's so weird."

"He was weird before, with whatever is going on between you two."

"Oh come on, that was just…" Ana replied but then stopped, stuck with what word to describe what she and Eggsy had.

"That was just…" Roxy egged her on, the corner of her mouth twitching in a smile.

"It was just… what we were," Ana finished, "and now… now it's just awkward."

She cut into the chicken parmesan, taking a big bite, letting out a fast breath through her nose because the food was still hot.

"A sick part of me wishes we were back to that animosity. At least it felt like something."

Roxy's spoon clattered against the bowl as she fully turned in the stool to stare at Ana. It was then that she realized what she had said was a mistake.

She grabbed her fork and shoveled the gnocchi into her mouth, dropping the fork and hitting her fist against the counter – the food was still too hot.

"Here, have some chocolate milk," Roxy said, holding up her bowl.

Ana didn't meet her gaze as she grabbed the bowl, moving it so the cereal was on the opposite side as she took a small sip, the cold milk soothing her burnt tongue.

"Thanks," she muttered, handing the bowl back. Roxy stared at her silently, and Ana broke.

"It felt like something because we were angry or pissed off at each-other for some stupid reason or other. Now, it's just… he's being all coy and respectful and I'm sorry but I fucking hate it. I don't even know him and I can tell something is different. It's not... _us_."

Ana let out a sigh and closed her eyes, knowing that she had just dug herself into a deeper hole with Eggsy's _best friend_.

She should've taken the food back to her room and watched Grey's Anatomy on Netflix.

"You gave him the answer to the question that all of us have been asking since that day-"

"What do you mean-"

"We didn't know what happened to him. We didn't have the means to go and bring him back – we found out that the then Arthur was already implanted with a chip-"

"Implanted with what?"

"A chip," another voice said, and they both turned to see Eggy standing in the doorway, his hair mussed, wearing sweats and an undershirt.

There was a long beat of silence.

"Okay, so you've both said it was a chip, but that doesn't explain shit."

Eggsy walked forward, grabbing a stool on the other side of the island and taking a seat before grabbing Roxy's cereal bowl and spooning down a gulp.

Roxy muttered with a grin as she got up and grabbed another bowl and spoon, taking the milk out of the fridge as she poured herself another bowl - and more into Eggsy's bowl after he pushed it forward with a smile.

Ana took the moment to grab another bite from her dish, the food finally at the right temperature to eat. She snuck a glance at Eggsy to find him staring her down.

She cleared her throat as she looked away, combing her hand through her hair but it got caught in a tangle, and she softly tugged until it came free.

"Valentine implanted chips behind the ear of any bugga that agreed to his plan. They were 'safe' from the SIM cards effects," Eggsy started.

"But it had a fail safe in case anyone tried to talk about the plan to anyone else," Roxy finished.

Eggsy nodded as he took another spoonful of cereal.

"You Yankees have terrible chocolate, but this is pretty damn good," Eggsy muttered.

Ana only stared at a fixed point above Eggy's head.

"The Compound Massacre…" she faded off, and Eggsy nodded. "That explains the decapitated bodies with no heads. We thought… we thought some sicko had come around and collected them – the bodies being so high in rank and what not. I mean Valentine even contacted famous athletes..."

Roxy and Eggsy hummed as they ate their cereal. Ana herself dug into her food, the three of them chewing in silence.

Roxy cleared her throat and sipped the last of the milk, emptying her bowl. She stood up and brought it to the sink, rinsing her bowl and spoon before placing them in the dishwasher – Ana and Eggsy watching her every move.

"Well," Roxy said, turning to them, "I'm off."

Both of them erupted into excuses, but Roxy shook her head, a faint grin on her lips as she left the two of them alone.

Ana turned to look at Eggsy, who stared back at her as he brought a spoonful of cereal to his mouth, crunching down.

Ana kept his gaze as she cut off a slice of the chicken, also chewing as she stared back.

They both chewed and swallowed, not breaking eye contact.

"Roxy told me you both were in the same recruitment group," she started, taking a forkful of the gnocchi.

Eggy only stared, taking another spoonful of the cereal.

"That's impossible," she continued, "since only one is chosen from each group. She said I should hear the explanation from you."

Eggsy took a deep breath through his nose as he swallowed, dropping his spoon into the bowl.

"We both need explanations from each other. You in a sharin' mood now? Maybe I should wait until you're exhausted, then I'll finally hear somethin' from ya."

She stared at him, her empty fork hanging in the air.

So much for something different.

They were right back where they started.

At least she had the comfort of knowing it wasn't her this time.

She dropped her fork and stood up, grabbing the dish; she'd finish it in her room. Seems that Grey's Anatomy was on the schedule after all.

"I've shared more than you. You owe me a share, not the other way. But I shouldn't be surprised by the typical male expecting more than what he gives. I dealt with that my entire life, why should you be any different?" she snapped, walking the other way around the island counter and towards the doorway out.

"Linc," he said harshly.

Her brain told her to keep walking, but her feet betrayed her and she stopped, but stayed facing away.

She heard him let out a sigh.

"Goodnight," he said, sounding as though it was a pain to say so.

"Whatever," she muttered as her feet started working again and led her out of the kitchen.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading, and as always, please leave a review!_

 _Goodnight, Goodnight by Hot Hot Heat_


	15. Chapter 14: Human Again

_Thanks for reading, and as always, leave a review!_

* * *

 **Human Again**

"Lincoln!" she heard a shout and turned around to see Adams walking up to her.

"Hey Adams. How're the kids?" she asked, full well knowing he didn't have any.

His closed lips twitched, but he kept a straight face.

"Got anything else?"

"Oh c'mon Adams, just wanna see you happy. I've seen Charles at Tech give you the side eye once or twice."

The flush of his cheeks was worth it, and he even stuttered.

"You've got more important things to consider these days, Lincoln."

"I'm multitasking."

He shook his head, a grin breaking through, but he brought his mouth to a straight line before he let out a breath.

"You've got an appointment with Beltran."

She blinked, and then almost shouted out "What?!" but managed to keep an even tone.

"We're a day away from the first anniversary of V-Day. Washington felt - more insisted- that it would be beneficial for you to have a session-"

"I'm _fine_."

"You're in denial. You've beaten up your partner-"

"Dylan can take me-"

"Eggsy is your partner and you know it."

"He… pushes my buttons."

"As an agent, Lincoln, you shouldn't have any _buttons_."

She sighed.

"There's no way I'm getting out of this, is there?"

He only shook his head, fighting a grin again.

"Oh, you love to see me squirm," she said, "but wait until I tell Charles that you asked about him," she said, turning on her heel and walking away.

"You wouldn't dare!

"Try me, Adams!" she shouted over her shoulder.

* * *

With her knee bouncing out of control, Ana focused her attention on the print of _Starry Night_ above Mrs. Beltran's head.

The therapist cleared her throat for the fourth time, as though it was going to instigate Ana to speak first.

But she knew the game. She made that mistake when she made the last minute session after learning Galahad was Eggsy. Mrs. Beltran acted as though she was victorious, Ana coming to her first.

"It's not a game, Ana," Mrs. Beltran said, finally breaking the silence, pushing her small glasses up her nose.

"I never said-"

"You act as though it is. Your body immediately relaxed after I spoke first."

Ana avoided her gaze and stayed silent.

"This isn't my first rodeo, hon."

Ana let out a sigh.

"What, you want to hear me say that I'm lost? That after taking Eggsy to Harry's grave that I don't know what we are anymore?"

"What were you before?"

Ana frowned, and shrugged.

"I don't fucking know… it was… we were just…" she shook her head and stood up, pacing around the room.

"I'm not going to finish for you, dear."

Ana rolled her eyes as she continued pacing.

"Fine, fine… we were in a right place. We weren't anything. We were just snippy towards each other, but I felt that there was respect, if that makes any sense."

"That's something..."

"But it wasn't. To me it was just another version of Hoover – me having to keep my guard up around someone that enjoyed pushing my buttons."

"And you his."

She sighed, but then nodded.

"You forget I know everything that goes on. I even know that your last mission resulted in bruises on Agent Galahad, yet you were fine."

Ana stared at her, and Mrs. Beltran only stared back.

"Okay, I gave him the bruises."

"Care to tell me why-"

"Nightmare," Ana said defeatedly, sitting back down on the sofa.

Mrs. Beltran frowned at that.

"They're back?"

Ana shook her head.

"Not like before… they're not as frequent, but yeah, they happen. I take my melatonin, I drink the chamomile tea… but with him, we just happened to be in the same hotel room when I had one."

"Could you spending so much time undercover with Marsha Valentine be the problem?"

"Probably, but if you think I'll stop-"

"I know how important this mission is to you, despite my own reservations against it. But you need to address the stress that you are putting yourself through."

Ana stared at her.

God, she hated therapists. The way they were always… right. Just like mothers. But then again, Ana never had one.

Her foster parents were only in it for the money. They brought her and Natasha in when they were only two years old. And it wasn't until First Grade, when their other classmates had their own school supplies, outfits, and lunches that the both of them realized their 'parents' were milking the government for money while leaving two children behind in the dust. They made due until they were both old enough to get jobs to pay for their own food and clothes, on top of the scraps their foster panrets gave them. Whenever they asked the couple for help, they would only laugh and say that funds were thin as they ate out almost every night and held Sunday night football parties that Nat and Ana had to stay in their room for.

On their own dime they bought their own school supplies at the local dollar store. They kept a piggy bank of spare change to help pay for their lunches. Their entire wardrobe consisted of hand-me-downs from their friends and visits to the Goodwill and Salvation Army – noting the days when certain colored tags were on sale.

Suffice to say, she and her twin sister didn't grow up with 'real' parents.

The day of their eighteenth birthdays, Bert and Kate left on a vacation and never came back, leaving the house – and all of the bills – with them.

"I've dealt with stress before," Ana said tightly.

Mrs. Beltran nodded.

"Ah, the mysterious background I only know about from a file."

"There's nothing to know."

"Ana, knowing what happened to you and your sister while growing up with foster parents that abandoned you when you were-"

"There's nothing!" Ana snapped. She took a deep breath, holding out her hands, "I had Natalia, and she had me. That's all that matters. Mattered," she whispered the last word, closing her eyes for a moment.

Mrs. Beltran took a deep breath, and fixed her with a gaze. Ana blinked, but kept eye contact and said nothing. Mrs. Beltran only shook her head.

"It's been almost a year," she said, looking down to the notepad in her hands and flipping a page, scribbling on a new sheet, "it's time that you take another shot in the gun range, pun intended, with real bullets. Tomorrow, not today."

Ana blinked, unsure what to think. Mrs. Beltran only stared at her.

"The first anniversary of a traumatic experience is always the hardest. Your history of blocking things out won't work tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that."

Ana slowly sat down on the sofa, her body still.

"Time at the range, with real bullets, can help you."

"How is that supposed-"

"It's not 'supposed' to do anything. But holding a real gun in your hands, facing your PTSD head on, can only help," Mrs. Beltran said, scribbling on a small notepad and tearing off the page, holding it out, "And if that doesn't work, then we've got a few more sessions in your future, specifically about V-Day. And I know you're too stubborn for that."

Ana stared at her, and then looked to the small piece of paper in her hand. Mrs. Beltran moved her hand, the paper fluttering.

"Give this to Adams, so you can have access to bullets."

She took it gingerly, looking down at the scribbles of handwriting, but not reading it.

"Okay," Ana said softly, her heartbeat going into overdrive. She felt… played, but also relieved. Mrs. Beltran was good… she knew this would make her try.

"Okay then," Mrs. Beltran replied, nodding as Ana stood up and walked towards the door, "But, despite your progress in the range, we still have two more sessions, mandatory within the next week."

Ana nodded, staring at the door. _Despite your progress_ … the last time someone had so much faith in her was Miriam… or more so, her other half, Natalia.

"You said tomorrow, not today…" Ana said brokenly.

Mrs. Beltran nodded.

"For the rest of the day, do what you want. If that means being locked up in your room here for the rest of the day, that's fine. If it means seeing a movie alone, going to a museum… what you need to prepare yourself for tomorrow. And trust me, Ana, I'll know if you don't go tomorrow.

Ana only nodded.

"See you for our next session, Ana. Good luck at the range."

* * *

"Natalia!"

She was staring down at her sister's body, limp and lifeless in her arms.

Her own mirror reflection… dead.

She knew what she would look like when she died. She was barely in her mid twenties and she knew a semblance of what her own dead corpse would look like. What kind of fucked up shit was that?

" _Wake up!_ " she heard faintly.

She turned and saw Jeremy, feeling something funny on her neck. She slapped it away.

"Why are you still here, Jeremy? If I see your face again I will make sure mine is the last thing you see."

She turned back to her sister, and screamed.

She felt that weird feeling in her neck again, and then that phantom feeling moved to her armpits, to the side of her stomach… a burst of laughter broke through her resolve.

Her eyes flew open, catching her breath from gasping, crying and… laughing?

She shot up, her arms flying, disoriented from such a change in the horror she was reliving.

"Hey, hey! It's okay, you're alright, its alright," she heard and felt hands grasp her arms, keeping them still.

She blinked the remaining tears away, Eggsy's face coming into focus.

"God, you've got a set of lungs, I can tell ya that," he sighed, his grip loosening as he stared at her.

More tears spilled and before she knew it she was leaning forward, her head meeting his shoulder as she let out a sob that shook her body as she broke down. He stayed still for a moment before she felt his arms wrap around her, pulling her closer as she let it all go, her arms weakly coming to his shoulders to hang on.

"She's gone," she gasped, shaking her head, images of Natalia rushing through her mind.

The first time they traded places in school to ace each others tests. Then the fifth time when they got caught. The times when they didn't even need to finish a sentence – somehow, they knew what the other was thinking. How hard Natalia cried when their foster parents packed up and left as soon as the both of them turned eighteen - despite the way they'd been treated. Natalia jumping up and down after she got her paralegal job at an up and coming law firm. Natalia jumping up and down after Ana had come home after passing the Kingsman 'Interview'– though for Natalia she'd gotten a desk job at the CIA.

Natalia, fighting her with anger in her eyes under the influence of Valentine's SIM card.

Natalia, gasping for breath as she bled out in her arms.

Natalia's dead eyes, staring up at her.

"I couldn't save her," she gasped, another sob shaking her body, "she's gone."

She felt fingertips brush her temple, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"I'm sorry, Ana."

At her name, she blinked, her mind short-circuiting to bring her back to the present.

She inhaled and then pushed away hard, hearing his 'woah' as he tried to balance himself. She backed up and stood up from the bed, turning away.

She stood there, catching her breath, the sounds of Eggsy catching his own somehow calming her. She sniffed and took in a deep inhale as she stood up straight, wiping her eyes.

"I'm going to wash my face. Think I'll be able to make it on my own from here, thanks for waking me up," she said in her deadliest tone as she rushed to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She rested against the door, breathing in as she stood there in the darkness.

She slapped her hand on the wall, finding the light switch and flipping it, blinking against the light. She rushed to the sink, cupping cold water in her hands before splashing it onto her face. She took a moment staring at the running water before looking up to meet her own gaze in the mirror.

She flinched at the sight, seeing her own vulnerability written on her face. The red puffy eyes and nose from crying so hard, her hair frizzed from the pillow. The sight itself, after imagining Natalia in her nightmare had her eyes filling with more tears and she bent down to splash her face with another handful of water.

She repeated the process three more times before wiping her face on a towel and blowing her nose with a tissue, taking in deep calming breaths.

She turned back to the door, her hand faltering on the handle.

Even though she couldn't have been more obvious about wanting to be alone, she knew he would be waiting for her.

She took another deep breath, opening the door before crossing her arms tight across herself as she stepped through.

She wanted to tuck her head down, crawl into bed and then turn off the lamp as though he wasn't there – but she had a feeling that was what he wanted. Instead she kept her head up, but the mixed look of pity and something else she couldn't describe on his face almost had her breaking down again.

Instead she went for her fallback – anger.

"Don't look at me like that," she snapped.

He stared at her for a beat before giving a forced laugh, throwing his arms up.

"What in the bloody hell did I do now?" he asked.

"You wanted a show, you got it. You can leave now."

"Are you-"

"I'm not a fucking damsel in distress, so stop looking – hell, stop treating me as such!" she continued, not looking at him as she focused instead on her messy suitcase on top of the desk.

She heard soft footsteps – though paradoxically stomping and clenched her body tight as she felt him stand in front of her.

"You can't even accept a lick of help from me, can you?"

She took a deep breath and looked up, meeting his gaze head on.

"Nope. Especially not with you looking at me like-"

"Oh, so I can't even look at ya now?" he asked, his angry glare flaring.

"Like I said – not like that! I don't need saving, okay?"

His hands curled into fists, and she tensed even more. If he wanted a round three, she was sure as fucking ready.

"Trust me, I know that."

She blinked, staring at him. She definitely wasn't expecting that…

"You're a damsel alright," he continued, glancing down at her pajamas, making her shiver, "but I know you ain't in distress, at least not the way ya think."

She almost laughed. She had broken down in front of him, and he was telling her this?

"What the hell does that-"

"I've still got two residual bruises from your last nightmare, just barely turnin' yellow."

At that she turned her head, but he reached forward and gently cupped her chin, bringing her gaze back to his – and for the first time Ana allowed his touch… and she'd never admit it out loud, but she appreciated him pushing her.

"And I just woke you from another one. You were _screaming_ , Linc."

She stayed silent, not looking away.

He sighed.

"So, Jeremy and Nat share a nasty history, then?" he asked. He barely got to finish because her hand shot out to strike at him but he caught her wrist mid-air. She gasped but he held on, staring at her, through her…

She jerked away, moving to her suitcase to bring out her oversized red hoodie, putting it on and wrapping it over herself – something for comfort. If she couldn't cloak her emotions, she could cloak herself in something literal.

"Why do you hate me?" he asked, his voice soft, almost defeated.

She sighed.

"Hate is a strong word," she said, giving him a glance.

"Wha'eva you wanna call it, its been all for me since the beginning-"

"You… you know more than others know! Only Dylan – who I agreed to tell, rather than settling for cheap tricks like what my name is-"

"Which you won't give me-"

"The only person I allowed to call me by my full name is _gone_ Eggsy!" she shouted, her voice ringing in her ears.

Silence followed.

She clenched her eyes tight, her hands coming to fists.

"You happy?" she continued, keeping her eyes closed, bringing her fists to rub against her closed eyes, "Got your reason now. She is _gone_ ," she said, keeping her eyes closed.

He still stayed silent.

She sighed and opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. Instead of pity, or whatever else, it was just him… looking at her.

She felt disoriented.

"You said something about leaving?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice from breaking.

His face fell and he shook his head, a hand coming up to cover his mouth before pulling it away. He shook his head and took a step closer, invading her space, his face inches away from hers. His eyes searched hers before he frowned.

"G'night. _Ana_. Please, for your own sake, sleep well."

He then turned and strode out of the room, closing the door silently behind him.

Only then did she sink to the floor, letting it all go.

* * *

 _I know this seems like filler, but the best is yet to come! I've got good stuff coming (or at least it is to me). As always, thanks for reading, and leave a review! Even one word! Anything! Let me know how I'm doing!_

 **Human Again by Kodaline**


	16. Chapter 15: Time Fighter

**Time Fighter**

The next morning, on the anniversary of V-Day, Ana stood alone in the gun range staring down at the Glock 19, breathing heavily as she felt the weight of it in her hands.

She clicked the switch and released the cartridge, checking to make sure the bullets were there before slamming it back into place.

She took another deep breath as she looked at the target in front of her a few yards back and moved into position, holding the pistol with both hands, her finger on the trigger.

She could do this.

 _She could do this._

She took in a deep breath and made the shot.

Thankfully due to her ear muffs, the sound was muted but she still flinched at the feeling; it was different from when she shot a tranq gun - more kickback.

She held onto the gun and quickly turned on the safety before dropping it onto the shelf in front of her.

She looked up and saw she'd made her target – a hole in the chest.

She looked down at her hands, which were shaking uncontrollably.

"Fuck!" she yelled out.

She paced away from the stall, and then came back, picking up the pistol again, her body tight as she switched off the safety and aimed again.

She took in a few deep breaths, aiming for the head this time.

But the second she pulled her finger on the trigger, she flinched – the bullet missing the paper target altogether.

She shook her head, and tried again. She felt her body tighten as she pulled the trigger… and she didn't flinch. She aimed for another spot and pulled the trigger again… making her target before she moved to another spot.

It was almost like riding a bike - she found a new target and made it, quickly reloading the gun and then shooting again.

She pulled on the trigger but only herd a click – no more bullets.

She let out a deep breath and pulled off the ear muffs as she paced away.

She almost wished Mrs. Beltran was there to see this – maybe she'd write off their future sessions. But she was glad she was alone. Alone to go through it… alone in case any flashbacks happened. But surprisingly they didn't happen.

Every time she pulled the trigger, every time the gun kicked back in her hands, she didn't see the faces of the people she had killed in cold blood a year ago. People who had no control. She only saw the target in front of her.

There was a knock on the door and she paused, clicking the safety before turning her head to see Dylan walk in.

He looked at her and then the lone target riddled with bullet holes, and a soft smile erupted in his face.

Ana shrugged.

Dylan's smile grew.

"Mrs. Beltran really does have special powers."

She rolled her eyes and as she took out the empty cartridge and walked towards the other end of the room, placing both parts of the gun in a bin; it would then be catalogued that she used the range with the certain kind of gun.

"I'm thinking the SR-25 will be my next go around."

Dylan snorted.

"You're an excellent sniper, I bet you won't even need practice."

"That's sweet, but before I'm given the go ahead for bullets we both know I'll need to pass the test with the full range of the armory."

Dylan walked forward, linking his arm in hers.

"The fact that you were given tranquilizer guns in the first place tells me the agency isn't worried about weapons training when it comes to you."

Ana failed to hide a smile at that. Dylan always did know how to make her feel better – to see herself in a different way.

"Protocol's a bitch though," she said.

Dylan nodded as they walked out of the range and into the hall.

"Come, our POTUS is about to give a speech."

Ana let Dylan lead her into the lounge room – the same room where she found out who Galahad really was.

And, wouldn't you know, not only was Eggsy there, but so was Roxy, Arthur, Washington, and Kennedy.

As she and Dylan took their spot on the loveseat, Ana thanked probability that Hoover wasn't there – as he'd probably make some ignorant comment about the President and jumpstart her anger that she would've had a hard time controlling.

"It's about to start," Washington said, remote in hand as he upped the volume.

All heads turned towards the large screen mounted on the wall as President Kathy Nora, clad in a black pantsuit settled herself in front of the podium at the steps of the Capitol.

It seemed, unfortunately, that a majority of America's politicians had agreed to Valentine's plan. Rather than enacting real climate change regulations, it seemed they thought mass genocide was a better resolution. And through the tricky line of succession to the presidency, Kathy Nora, the Secretary of Veterans Affairs, became the new President. Her first act was to declare martial law until a new House and Senate were elected in rapid elections the country had never seen before. All in all, the woman had taken the position in stride and helped rebuild a country in chaos in under a year, even helping pass a bill that regulated cell phone SIM cards.

"My fellow Americans," the president began, "our fellow allies, and people of the world… we come together today in remembrance of a truly horrifying event that occurred exactly one year ago. Valentine, an entrepreneur, a billionaire, a man of 'taste', held out an experiment that almost ended our society, and maybe even our species as a whole _._ "

They all sat and watched in silence as the President gave her speech. She was eloquent and passionate, leading from Valentine's actions into a speech about climate change and why it was so important.

 _"_ Where Valentine wanted to make his own perfect world where the elite and the rich survived… he failed. Because we as a people, we as farmers and blue collar workers and even white collar workers and even the very elite that Valentine imagined in his new world… we resisted.

"Those lost a year ago will never be forgotten. It is tragic that such an occurrence has the entire world uniting as one against a common enemy… but we have persevered since then. Because in the end, that is what we do. Not just as Americans, but as human beings. We will persevere, we will survive, we will fix this problem. Thank You."

The President took a step back from the podium and left the stage amongst thunderous applause. The news channel switched to the commentators, and the lead anchor immediately began the discussion.

Washington muted the television, leaving the room in silence.

Ana took a deep breath.

"Considering I would've called Valentine a worthless piece of shit, that speech was pretty good."

She heard a few muffled laughs, and shook her head.

"I'm actually being serious," she said, standing up as Dylan grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight, "as a fucking _planet_ we went through something – because of him. And because of him and his mother – from what intel is telling us is the main reason for such an incident…" she paused and looked towards Washington, who was staring back at her, "I wouldn't change anything. Hell, given the chance, I would've killed her the second I saw her."

Washington's jaw twitched, and he looked around the room.

"Everyone is dismissed, Lincoln, stay here."

There was a beat of silence before everyone moved, except Ana, who stood still, keeping Washington's gaze.

Eggsy, Roxy, and Dylan all left together.

"I must say, seeing a woman in such a position of power here… it's quite invigorating," Roxy said as they walked down the hall.

Dylan smiled.

"Should've seen Ana and-" he stopped, frowning as he shook his head, smiling again – this time not as strong, "Well, she campaigned hard. Even used her days off at the local colleges, collecting signatures and registering voters to encourage people to vote for her re-election. When she was sworn in after V-Day, there was only a few months before the next election."

Roxy tilted her head at that.

"No offense, but it seems sad that people still need to remind others that this nation is living in a Democracy."

Eggsy sighed, a feeling that Roxy was about to go on a rant about the UK's monarchy contrasted with the US's democracy, but was surprised when Roxy left.

"I'll be in the kitchen watching the news, at least you guys get BBC here."

Eggsy smiled as he stood near Dylan, the both of them watching Roxy walking away.

"She's something," Dylan started, and Eggsy raised an eyebrow, "you're lucky to have her. Agents like her and Ana… makes our agency seem so stupid for waiting this long to accept female recruits."

He could only nod in agreement as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"What's Ana's deal with Valentine?" he asked, deciding to get down to it, not bothering to skate around his question.

Dylan turned and raised an eyebrow.

"Thought we've been through this, Eggsy… I'm not telling you-"

"She lost someone, that's apparent enough, but she has such…" Eggsy faded off, trying to find the right word.

"She feels what everyone else on the planet feels – hatred towards that man," Dylan started, "And the kicker is, he's dead. He didn't face trial. He's gone… and that closure for millions of people will remain open."

Eggsy could only nod.

"I… I had a hard day that day."

Dylan stayed silent at first but then asked "How do you mean?"

Eggsy shrugged, thinking of how to talk about his first day on the job without giving it away that it was his first day…

"Well, we'd lost Harry only a day before-"

"The test in Kentucky."

Eggsy nodded.

"From the footage of the church, we knew what was to come," he said, taking a deep breath. "I had to have Rox call my mum – a complete stranger calling her and telling her to lock her daughter in the bathroom and kick the key under the door – without explaining why."

"Your mom – your sister-"

"Both alive and well, thank god."

Dylan nodded in their silence.

Eggsy looked back to the door, wondering if Ana was fighting back from the reprimand Washington was probably giving her.

"I was there, Dylan."

Dylan froze, and then turned his head to stare at him.

"I was there, at the compound. Surrounded by rich snobs who had _agreed_ to such a barbaric notion… I was there when we triggered the explosive safety failsafe on the chips so that they all died."

Dylan let out a breath.

"Thing was; it was my idea to do it – cause I had a stupid inklin' that Valentine would have the same chip… but he didn't."

Dylan let out a hum, and shook his head.

"You don't… you mean to tell me that-"

"I fought my way through that compound to get to him. Fought his right hand woman, who had knives for legs, by the way-"

"Gazelle. She had a long rap sheet before she joined his ranks."

Eggsy nodded.

"She was tough to beat. And I even used one of her legs to finally kill him. I killed Valentine. I killed the man who almost killed the world."

Eggsy took in a deep breath and noticed that Dylan had gone silent, his face turning white as he looked over Eggsy's shoulder.

He slowly turned to see Ana standing a few feet away, her face equally ashen.

Eggsy opened his mouth to say something - anything - but Ana beat him to it.

"You did what?"

He froze, frowning at the look on her face, the tone of her voice.

"I… it was me that killed Valentine."

Her face was as still as stone. And then in a split second she rushed forward and shoved him.

He let out a yell as he stumbled back, hitting the wall, and she rushed him again, grabbing his shirt tight.

She only stared at him, her face looking so pained…

"Ana-"

She pulled on his shirt and then pushed again, shoving him further into the wall.

" _You_ killed him."

He could only nod.

"Ana," Dylan said softly, but she only shook her head before she released her grip on Eggsy's shirt, her face twisting, a tear escaping from her eye.

Eggsy took a step forward but she lashed out, punching him square in the jaw.

He cursed as he brought a hand to his face, but then Ana was hugging him tight.

He blinked, and in an instant his arms wrapped around her as she let out a sob. He turned to see Dylan, his face twisted in pain as he watched them. Eggsy looked down at the top of Ana's head as she freely sobbed into his shirt, just like she had the night before after her nightmare.

A nightmare, he now knew, that was a result of V-Day.

Dylan had said Valentine's death kept closure from millions of people… and Ana was one of them. He squeezed his arms tighter around her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Her knees gave out and he fell with her to the ground, still holding her as she curled up in his lap, holding onto his shirt so tightly as though not wanting to let go.

"I had to. I'm sorry. It was my only option."

Her head nodded as she continued sobbing. He fought his own tears back as he looked up to see Dylan and Kennedy staring down at him. He blanched at Kennedy's hard face – he remembered his earlier threats, and Kennedy looked as though he was about to follow through on his word.

"I don't… I didn't…"

Kennedy and Dylan both shook their heads as Kennedy knelt down, keeping Eggy's gaze as he reached forward and gathered the still sobbing Ana into his arms.

"You did what you had to. She'll come to see that. But for now, she needs to mourn," Kennedy said sharply before standing up and walking away, the sound of Ana's crying echoing down the hall.

Eggsy sat there, a part of his shirt sticking to him, damp from Ana's tears. A hand entered his line of sight and he took it, Dylan helping him stand up.

"I'm sorry," was all Eggsy could think to say.

' _I couldn't save her, she's gone,_ ' she'd cried the night before. The weight of her pain felt heavy on his own shoulders.

"I know," Dylan said, "I just… I don't know what she's thinking right now. Like I told you, what happened to her that day changed her forever."

Eggsy looked down the hall just in time to see Kennedy holding Ana in his arms disappear. He felt a small pang in his chest and brought up a hand to rub at the spot.

"On behalf of me, however," Dylan said, and Eggsy turned his head. Dylan reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder, "on behalf of my Claire, I thank you. And I know, time permitting, Ana will thank you too."

At that, Dylan dropped his hand and walked away, leaving Eggsy standing there, completely confused.

"Oy, Glahad!" he heard a minute later.

Eggsy took a deep breath and saw Arthur walking towards him.

"Boy, you look like you've just been run over by a train…"

Eggsy let out a harsh laugh, his hand coming to the damp spot on his shirt.

"You… you could say that."

* * *

She tossed and turned in bed that night - not even sure if she'd gotten any sleep before she saw it was already seven am. She let out a sigh as she got out of bed, deciding some training would tire her out enough to take a long nap through the day. A day she didn't want to face - not after what had recently happened.

Breaking down in front of Eggsy _twice_ definitely put a damper on her confidence. How could she face him now? Not only did he wake her from yet another nightmare, but he was the one to kill Valentine. She didn't remember much except her hearing Eggsy's declaration, and Kennedy tucking her into bed, saying nothing as he put a tissue box on the bedside table before leaving.

The halls were empty as she walked to the training room, her earbuds in as she hummed to Rihanna, swinging a hip then and there to the beat.

After a strenuous half hour or so of beating the punching bag, she heard a muffled voice through her headphones and stopped, tugging at the cord as she turned and saw Eggsy in the room, arms crossed.

She let out a deep sigh despite being out of breath, turning her head so Eggsy didn't see the dark circles under her eyes: zombie eyes, she called them. If she left the house 'without makeup', that usually meant concealer under her eyes so she didn't look as tired as she really was. However this morning she'd only washed her face, dressed for training, and left, leaving her make-up untouched on the counter.

"Had a good sleep?"

She blinked at his dismissive tone as she fought to catch her breath. She'd cried on his fucking shoulder – twice within forty-eight hours – an honor only held for Dylan... but then she caught his gaze again and saw the attitude.

Only then did she figure out how alike they really were. The further the emotions, the better.

She sighed and braved her face to a neutral stance before she turned to face him. She faltered for a moment at a small bruise on his jaw, and then remembered that she'd lashed out at him yesterday.

His eyes twitched, but they stayed the same; teasing, just waiting to get a rise out of her.

She blinked and the realization came to her - he was going back to their old animalistic ways to help _her_. To help her cover up her vulnerability she had: him.

She took a beat to decide how to reply. She hated to admit it but having Eggsy know of her nightmares – hell, he was a victim of a bad one – was almost de-stressing. And even though she had no proof, the way he acted that night in the hotel room told her that he also had his own demons visiting him in the night.

But then she got a second look of his smug and – _dammit_ – handsome face and second guessed herself as she tilted her head.

"I'd be ready for another round… if you are."

His face twitched but he kept his sly grin as he took a step forward.

"Are you awake enough?"

At his last comment he knew he'd gone too far. But he couldn't help it. He _liked_ the fire in her eyes whenever he got on her nerve.

Especially, however how wrong he felt about it; having her accept her vulnerability while he was there after her nightmare, having her soak his shirt with her tears… being there to wake her up from whatever horrors she'd been through without a fist fight… it felt right to him. It was a side of her he'd never seen; a side of her he'd been _wanting_ to see.

He didn't know how she felt about this something between them. He sometimes wished that his first instinct wasn't always to rile her up. But he also looked forward to seeing her, making her cheeks flush and her eyes spark and just hearing the funny, snarky, bitchy and intelligent things that came out of her mouth when he got her going.

Was that something they could make a real partnership out of?

"If I can give you multiple bruises while I'm half awake, I'd love to see the damage I can do right now," she snapped, and he took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, refraining from grinning.

She tilted her head and smiled.

"Ah, there it is."

He raised an eyebrow but she only shook her head.

"Ana what are you…" another voice interrupted but then faded away and they both looked over to see Dylan, his hair a mess and his eyes barely open, wearing the given Kingsman sweats and black shirt. He looked at Ana and then him, and his eyes widened as his mouth turned down.

"I train with you in the morning," Dylan said stiffly, catching Eggy's gaze and keeping it.

He glanced at Ana, looking at Dylan, and then looked back and shrugged. But before he could say anything she spoke.

"I'm gonna go it _alone_ this morning. Somewhere else. You can sleep an hour or two in my 'cell'," she said to Dylan, a smile forming on her lips, making Eggsy feeling something towards jealousy.

Dylan nodded as he yawned, and before the two of them could blink, Ana was gone.

Eggsy let out another deep breath as he turned to Dylan, who was watching him with a straight face.

"What's her deal?" he asked. Maybe he could get some more insight.

But the expressionless and tired face looking back at him shot down his hope.

He sighed.

"Fine, then let's start somewhere…" he said, and Dylan took a step forward as he crossed his arms.

"The nickname Nat… is that-" Eggsy started.

"How the hell do you-" Dylan's face turned dark.

"She hit two pressure points to paralyze me for three seconds, a rare martial arts move I've only known a few others to master - when I gave her that nickname from her cover name."

Dylan froze, but then moved a hand over his face, shaking his head.

"Jesus, she's still using Natasha?" he muttered.

Eggsy's interest piqued.

"So it does mean somethin' to her? Or is it Natalia?" he asked.

Dylan stopped, meeting his gaze, glaring.

"How the fuck do you-"

"Nightmare victim here," he said raising his hand to give a single wave.

Dylan shook his head.

"Jesus, you're trying to get me in the middle of this, _again_ , aren't you?"

He stayed still, but then moved his shoulder in the smallest shrug ever.

Dylan's face twisted as he turned, shaking his head as he paced a few steps away and paced back to him.

"Fine, fine, I know you unfortunately share her stubbornness; she's told me enough about it-"

Eggsy smiled at that and Dylan cursed.

"God, the two of you…" he took in a deep breath, "Shit… ugh, don't tell her, she'll maim me. But… what I'm gonna say is gonna have to do for your twisted way of knowing everything, cause if I told you directly, she'd probably find a way to make my death seem like an accident."

Eggsy blinked at that, but then grinned when he thought about it. She seemed like she could – she had the act down.

But he knew it was just that. An act.

"Well, you've got a witness now," he muttered, and Dylan let out a laugh, snapping his head to look at him.

"Now I see – shit… no…" he let out a breath, finally standing still, his face back to all business.

"I thanked you for Claire... she was my fiancé," he started, and Eggy's face fell.

Shit. He wasn't expecting that.

Dylan took in a breath, shaking his head.

"She also lost someone that day," he said, his voice softer, and Eggsy closed his eyes tight, shaking his head, "though I figure you're at least smart enough to have figured that out."

Eggsy kept his face grave as he nodded.

"But the thing is," Dylan continued and Eggsy looked back up to watch as he shuffled on his feet, drawing a hand over his face again, "I lost someone I loved. But she… she lost someone _more_ than that."

He stopped.

What did that mean?

Dylan shook his head again.

"Don't you dare say anything. She's irked with me enough as it is these days," he said, turning and walking away.

He had just reached the doorway before Eggsy found his voice again.

"Why did you tell me in the first place?"

Dylan stopped, turning back to him, his gaze piercing enough from that distance.

"Something tells me you're... different."

Eggsy tilted his head at that. Ana and Dylan definitely had the whole vague thing down pat.

"However, Eggsy," Dylan continued, "if this is something that you use to hurt her in any way, if you in any way hurt her, you'll wish she used a bullet the night you first met."

He stopped, staring at Dylan, his face dark and menacing. He wasn't fucking around.

He respected that.

"I'm not that type of somethin', Dylan," he said slowly.

His eye twitched, but he kept his dark gaze.

But suddenly, his face broke into a grin.

"Great talk, Eggsy. Glad we've got an understanding," Dylan said before turning away and leaving Eggsy standing in the hall, utterly confused.

* * *

 _Guys, you have no idea what it means to a writer to read a review! Negative or Positive, whenever I'm in a funk or a writing block, I go back and re-read each and every comment - and it really helps._

 _Timefighter by Lucy Dacus_


	17. Chapter 16: Painted

_Hello there! Apologies for the wait - I moved around some chapters and found better parts for the story. I hope you enjoy! As always: thanks for reading, and leave a review if you can! I even accept anonymous if that's your style._

* * *

 **Painted**

"I need at least an hour long shower when we get back," Ana sighed, rubbing at a kink in her neck as they stood near the baggage claim, drowsy and tired from both the mission and the flight that was extended for a few hours due to an emergency landing in the middle of Nevada for an engine check.

"Don't hog up the hot water, I want one too."

"I'm not a water hog!"

"Your thirty-minute shower back at the hotel was just a fluke, then?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

She shook her head, fighting a grin.

"It was a _waterfall_ shower, how can I not?"

"Wouldn't know, didn't have time to take one."

"Oh, cry me a river," she said just as the suitcases started dropping down to the conveyor belt.

"You mean cry ya a waterfall," he quickly replied which made her laugh. He smiled at that and she turned away to get closer to the edge of the belt, keeping an eye out for their bags.

"I can get the bags, Miss, if you and Eggsy would like to wait in the car?"

"Don't call me Miss, Mr. Holtsman, and we can get the bags ourselves, thank you."

"I'd excuse her stubbornness but it seems you already know of it," she heard Eggsy introduce himself behind her.

"Indeed, sir."

"I'm surprised she doesn't end up driving herself."

"Oh, she has, sir, on occasion."

She turned her head over her shoulder to give them both a glare.

"Those were dire circumstances and you know it. Now hush, I see our bags."

Ana and Eggsy were finally home after a quick Marsha mission in Chicago that turned from a weekend mission into almost a week. One last minute Gala turned into two, which Marsha had also grabbed the two of them invitations for - and therefore they had to find their own outfits for and play their cover while mingling with the enemy and unknowing citizens - _twice_. They'd brought even more mics and trackers to plant, had tech to take pictures inconspicuously, and Eggsy even had time alone in one of the town cars to check the locations the town car had been visiting regularly.

All in all, the mission was simple and boring. Neither of them had nightmares, she didn't cause bodily harm towards him, and he wasn't as invasive as usual.

During dress shopping, Eggsy had said something along the lines of "I've always wanted to see the Windy City!" as a reason for tagging along, which Marsha had laughed at quite hard.

"Oh, that lovely accent does make everything better, doesn't it?" she'd said, sending a wink towards Ana, who had to fight not to roll her eyes.

After he'd left the shop, Marsha was more interested in the two of them as a pair than finding dresses.

"Something's different, isn't there?"

She'd shaken her head.

"He's looking at you differently, dear, something has changed. For the better, if I thought that possible from such a lovely couple."

Ana's insides had fluttered at that. Not only from the fact that they _were_ different, however she didn't know how; but also from disgust that Marsha was invading in her personal life and relationship with Eggsy.

She looked over at him in the car now, looking at his profile.

His eyes moved and he turned his head but she looked out the window, frowning at their surroundings after they passed a shop she was unfamiliar with in the usual route towards Headquarters. She checked the traffic app on her phone to see if that was the reason for the detour, but didn't see any.

She frowned, looking to the driver and noticing his eyes continuously checking the rearview mirror… before he took a left turn. She watched him make two more unexpected turns, the last one on route _away_ from headquarters.

"Mr. Holtsman, is there something you'd like to tell me, sir?"

"To not call me sir, Miss."

"Yes, and I usually ask my colleagues to not presume I'm an idiot," she said and Eggsy chuckled, "so I'll say again, is there something you'd like to tell me?"

He let out a soft sigh, and checked the rearview mirror again.

"We're being followed," he said, voicing her internal concerns.

"What?" Eggsy said, and she reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling.

"Don't look back! The windows aren't tinted; it'll give us away."

He nodded. She nodded back and pulled her hand away, feeling restraint from his own.

"What's the usual protocol?" he asked.

"Drive as much as we can towards a more suburban place, where we can deal with business neatly and quietly."

"Sounds like a plan," Eggsy started, but she shook her head.

"How daft are you? The _both_ of you? We're coming back from a mission with Marsha. It's obviously her."

They both stayed silent. She looked at Eggsy, who was grinning.

"Daft?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Roxy is rubbing off on me, what can I say?"

"What is the plan of action, then?" Mr. Holstman said.

"Just… make a few random turns, find a gas station. You fill up the tank, we get goodies from the mart… maybe that'll throw them off."

Mr. Holstman cleared his throat.

"Miss… cab drivers are never to get gas with a customer. It could raise suspicion."

"Shit… what about 7-Eleven?"

"Miss?"

"We've just got off a plane, we need… refreshments."

"What refreshments?"

"For fucks sake! If we keep making random left and right turns, they'll know we're onto them. If we make a stop and I'm not in a fucking moving car, I can think of something!" she found herself yelling.

She caught her breath, surprised at her outburst.

"Will do, Miss," Mr. Holstman said.

"Sorry, sorry… I just…" she faded off and shook her head, looking out the window, her mind reeling.

She felt something touch her hand and jumped, turning to look at Eggsy.

He looked at her, just looked. No raised eyebrow. No look of teasing or indifference.

Just looking. Staring.

She loved and hated it.

She kept his gaze until they turned onto a curb and Mr. Holstman said "7-Eleven, miss."

She sighed, bending forward to rummage in her purse for cash.

"What do we do?" Galahad asked.

She pulled up, surprised. He was asking for her lead…

She cleared her throat, and tugged him forward by his tie, moving them under the line of sight. She loosened the tie and got rid of it, moving a hand to ruffle up his hair.

"We're gonna walk in hand in hand. We're gonna get some snacks, and definitely some Slurpee's. I'll let you know what we'll do next once I do. But we can't go to headquarters. Not yet."

They both entered the 7-Eleven, Eggsy looking around almost confused. She went to the drinks first, looking amongst the wine and beer and sodas… grabbing a six pack of Angry Orchard.

"Seriously?" she heard him say but she only grinned and continued down the next aisle mindlessly.

Her mind was racing.

They were being followed… which meant Marsha didn't trust them.

She turned her head to watch Eggsy pick up a pack of Ding Dongs and look at it with equal fascination and then disgust after looking at the back of the package.

It was a mistake, bringing Galahad. It was a mistake, the UK Branch coming here.

She'd left the scene at New York in a rush to get away since she wasn't under the protection of the Kingsman during her rogue mission. What happened after she left the two of them unconscious in the hall? If Marsha had a security team, they had to have known something went down. If not then, then had Marsha's team found one of their bugs, and somehow traced it back to them?

She held in a sigh as she grabbed the Ding Dongs and threw them into her basket.

What the fuck was she supposed to do now?

The usual protocol for following was what Mr. Holtsman had said; find a nice suburb and deal with them accordingly… but this was a tail that they wanted to thwart. A tail meant to follow them to Headquarters to most likely find out about the agency – she needed to make them think that there wasn't such a thing as Headquarters. That her and Eggsy were just a simple couple leading a simple life.

Her old house came into mind, but she shook her head.

"What?" Galahad asked, throwing in a bar of Butterfingers.

"Huh?"

"You just shook your head."

She recovered quickly, throwing in a bag of Reese's Pieces, realizing there were too many sweets, and then putting some of them back.

"Just concerned of your choice is all," she said, turning at the end of the aisle and moving towards the end of the mart where the soda and Slurpee machines were.

"Right, right," he said as she grabbed two medium cups, giving one to him as she filled her own with a mix of the cherry and cola mix. She put the cap on and added more, licking off the excess flavor.

He was staring at her. He then stared at the machine.

"Trust me. Just, do it. It's a nice warm day, you wont regret it."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Don't give me that shit. Meet me in line," she muttered, leaving him alone with the machine.

She was at the register, the young man's smile falling when Galahad came up next to her. He scanned the other Slurpee and handed over the bag with a curt "thanks".

She didn't say anything as she grabbed Galahad's hand and moved them towards the exit. Unspoken, he moved his arm around her shoulder as they pushed the doors open and walked towards the cab.

"You've taken a sip, right?"

He shook his head and when his lips sucked at the straw, she had to look away.

But then she heard him cough and shake his head.

"Brainfreeze."

"That's the induction to Slurpee's. Welcome to America," she said dryly as they entered the car.

"Miss?" Mr. Holstman asked as he started the car.

"Head west… stick on big streets, where traffic is. I need to make a call," she said, bringing out her cell.

She typed in a long number, securing the line before calling Adams.

 _"Mission went well, we've got a few more channels to listen to, and our team is researching all of the location history from Marsha's car."_

"It went well, but now it's gone haywire. I need protocol Safe House."

There was a pause on the other line, but then Adams cleared his throat.

 _"She's following you?"_

"Holstman caught it. Single black SUV, since the airport."

 _"Are you sure about this?"_

"There's no other option, Adams."

 _"How long do we have?"_

She looked at a passing street, and calculated the time in her head.

"If Holstman drives like an old lady and yields to everything, I'd say half an hour."

 _"That's cutting it close, but we can cover the initial search if her goons are smart. Let's hope they're lazy as well."_

"I'm hoping for a lot of things right now, Adams. Thanks."

 _"Tell Holtsman he's getting a raise for that catch."_

"Will do, talk to you later."

 _"More than later, you know the protocol."_

She sighed, but nodded, and then remembered she was on the phone and Adams couldn't see her, so said "Copy," and hung up.

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath.

"What's the plan, miss?" Holtsman asked.

"What did I say about calling me-"

"And what did I say about calling me sir?"

"Touche', sir. 1145 Mountain Ave."

"Ana, are you sure?" the driver asked.

The fact he was unsure solidified her feeling that the agency knew her original home address.

She drew in and then let out a deep breath.

"I'm sure. Adams is on it to protect the cover, but there's no other choice," she said, her heart falling. She closed her eyes again and took in an another deep breath.

It would work. Adams right now was working to change the deed of the house from her real name to her cover name, and would remove any notion of her real identity or that of Natalia's from ever owning it, as well as their foster parents – which could link back to her real identity.

She held her hands in tight fists the whole drive there, thankful that Eggsy was holding his questions as bay and stayed almost stoically silent the entire time.

As Mr. Holstman took the exit from the freeway, she remembered being in the red sports car, drifting the turn amongst still cars during V-Day.

When he turned onto the street and stopped in front the house, she looked at once what used to be her home, but was now just a reminder of who she used to be. When her twin sister was alive.

The car came to a stop, and she heard Mr. Holstman exit the car but she just sat there, staring not at what used to be her home, but at Jeremy next door, watering his roses.

Mr. Holstman opened her door and she stepped out.

"You're getting a raise, Adams wanted me to let you know," she said to him as he brought out their bags from the trunk, resting them on the sidewalk.

"Just my job, m'am."

"What did I tell you about m'am?!"

"Roosevelt gives me $200 a month to keep it up, tell him."

"Well that's stupid to tell me…"

"If you tell him, he'll raise the price," he said, winking at her over the car before he climbed in and drove away.

Ana turned to the house, making sure to avoid looking at the small front lawn, instead checking to make sure the house was still sound. And it was.

"Ana? Ana… is that you?"

She shivered at the voice and felt Eggsy reach up to touch her shoulder but she pulled away, taking a deep breath as she took a step forward, looking into the face of the man who killed his twin.

"Yup."

Jeremy was standing there, hose in hand over the roses he cared for, the water still going. He clenched the handle hard and the water spewed out with a harder force before he let it go and dropped the hose as though it was on fire.

 _"I meant it when I said goodbye. I never want to see your face again. I never want to hear your name again. I want you gone. Do you understand?"_ were her last words to him on that fateful day.

For a month, she'd kept her promise. He'd moved, but only a block away; she'd kept tabs on him. He still owned the house, had it up for rent, but never rented.

And after that first month, when everything came crashing down around her and she knew that she had also taken innocent lives to protect herself (and with the help of mandated therapy); she'd finally met him, under the guise of a renter.

He'd freaked when he saw her, but soon enough they were talking.

She didn't forgive him. She let him know she never would.

But forgiving and understanding are different.

So she let him go. Told him to live his life. Told him he was lucky he only had one kill. She then told him that for repentance he would watch over her childhood home, the only place that still held memories of Natalia.

"Ana," Jeremy said, walking towards them.

Galahad took a step in front of her.

Jeremy stopped, looking between the two of them.

She rolled her eyes and stepped around him, closer to her old neighbor.

"Hey, Jeremy."

He nodded, wringing his hands together, looking between her and Galahad.

"Jeremy?!" he heard Galahad say behind her, and she shook her head, looking at Jeremy.

"Oh god, he knows who I am?" Jeremy asked, looking downright terrified. Ana shook her head, and he continued, "Uhm, house is good," he stuttered, "All set… I just didn't know you would ever… come back…"

"Surprise visit. Is your phone the same number? I might call soon."

Jeremy's faltered, but then nodded.

"Do you need the key?" he asked as she pulled her suitcase along the stone pathway to the porch.

"I've got it, Jeremy. If anyone asks, I've been here this whole time, and you've seen this guy around, understood?"

His eyes bugged out but he nodded.

"Of course, Ana. Of course."

"Go back to your roses, Jeremy."

She brought out her keys and opened the front door, which led to a sun room/front porch, Eggsy closing it behind them.

"Wait here a sec."

"But-" he started but she ignored him as she opened the main front door to the house, dropping her keys on the coffee table in the foyer before rushing around to every picture of either of them she remembered that were displayed on the first floor of the house; together and alone, from their travels and trips and stupid fun, gathering all of the frames together and stuffing them in the coat closet.

Only then did she open the front door, Eggsy stepping inside, looking around with a quizzical look before turning to face her.

She rushed to the window, not moving the drapes as she peeked outside.

The black SUV was parked two or three houses back; watching.

"That's Jeremy," he said, his faced scrunched up in thought.

She took in a deep breath and then turned, catching Galahad's gaze.

"That's Jeremy. And this is a… safe house. However, you are to not talk, look, or even think of Jeremy, is that clear?"

"I'm not and idiot, Ana."

She stopped, the impact of him saying her name hitting her fully.

"I heard the phone call with Adams. This is… this is your old place, ain't it? With whoever Natalia was?"

She took a step forward, her hands clenched in fists at the name.

He raised his hands, fists clenched as well.

"I'm ready for a brawl, babe, but do you really want that right now?"

She took a step back, relaxing her hands.

"What I want right now is for you to stay here, and only here. Bathroom is that door to the left, kitchen is to the right. There's a study as well, but it's just storage now. You get me?"

She looked over at him, his gaze searching.

She shook her head.

"Got it?!"

He titled his head slightly but then nodded.

"Copy."

"Finally, some cooperation," she muttered, leaving him to go upstairs.

* * *

She wasn't sure how long she stayed in Natalia's old room, crying softly as she lay on top of the purple comforter, looking at the pictures and collages that covered the walls so much that it made its own wallpaper. Natalia was always the creative one. A perfect opposition to her own strategic and straight forward self.

This was her first time inside this house since before V-Day, which in retrospect she saw was a stupid mistake; she should have reminders of Natalia at her new studio loft. She should have pictures of them surrounding her. Maybe if she did she wouldn't harbor so much grief.

She almost wanted to call Mrs. Beltran, but decided for a later appointment when she finally got back to Headquarters.

Her stomach grumbled and she sat up, closing her eyes against the head rush as she stood up and descended the stairs, finding Eggsy lounging on the sofa, watching _Jeopardy!_ of all things.

"Who is Genghis Kahn?" he said aloud, and once the contestant said the same thing and got the dollars, he clenched a fist in the air in success.

She couldn't help but smile at that as she took the final three steps, knowing they would creak and signal her arrival.

Eggsy jumped and sat up, reaching for the remote, but she shook her head and sat down on the other side of the sofa.

"this game is great, by the way. I've always heard about it, but never watched. Makes you feel stupid but smart at the same time, ya know?" he asked.

She only nodded, still feeling raw from being there. She listened to the next answer.

"What is synonym?" she asked aloud.

The contestant said the same, and got the dollars.

"Nice," Eggsy said softly.

She shrugged, and they watched the rest of the game in silence. They both guessed right for the Final Jeopardy, and the reigning champion won by only a single dollar.

The commercials came on, and Eggsy reached for the remote to mute it.

"You hungry?" he asked.

"Craving Chinese, you?"

"Sounds good."

She made the call on her cell under a secure line, and they continued watching _Jeopardy!_ reruns until the bell rang.

She stood up to get it, her eyes blinking in surprise when she recognized a Kingsman tech dressed casually, holding their order. But she should have figured.

"Washington wants you to wait another day, the tail is still here," was all he said, but he still grabbed the tip before he left.

She returned to the sofa, unpacking the food and utensils.

"Message from Washington, tail is still here."

"Classic spy move, infiltrating the delivery," Eggsy muttered, digging into the chow mein.

"We'll need to survive at least another day here."

He took a moment before shrugging.

"Seems there's a marathon of this, shouldn't be terrible."

They ate dinner and eventually both fell asleep on the sofa during the marathon. Ana woke up first, making breakfast from stale Pop Tarts in the pantree. Eggsy was still asleep on the sofa so she went back upstairs, venturing into her own room, memories flooding back to her as soon as she stepped through the doorway.

It was as clean as she remembered it, a few basic artworks from the local Goodwill on the walls, her bed set, her clothes tucked in the dresser, her desk spotless.

She dug through her old clothes and grabbed an outfit to dress into after her shower. After that she went through Natalia's room, packing up some pictures and trinkets she'd take back with her.

She walked back downstairs, not really looking at Eggsy as she made her way to the kitchen.

"Might have some soup and stale crackers, sound good?"

"Sure thing, Anabelle."

Her whole body shut down; her body became still, her heartbeat slowed so fast she almost felt dizzy, and her anger... her anger intensified like a sports car going from zero to sixty in under two seconds.

Her brain reminded her body to take a breath when she noticed she wasn't breathing anymore. She slowly turned on her heels, taking one step into the living-room to witness the one thing she didn't want.

Eggsy, sitting on the sofa and staring down at the coffee table, littered with the photos she had stuffed into the coat closet. He had one particular photo in hand that she even recognized from such a distance: a photo of two of them after a marathon, with shirts that read each-others names that they had made a contest of making to see which one was more ridiculous.

Natalia had made Anabelle's shirt almost like an ugly Christmas sweater, with bells (which were a bitch to run with), embroidered lights and wreaths, and an image of Santa riding a shark on the stomach.

Ana had just added as much glitter as she could to Natalia's shirt.

Eggsy rested the photo amongst the others before standing up slowly.

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

At that, it was as though something snapped inside of her; deep down, she felt even her bones radiate with anger.

She let out a shriek and charged right at him, taking a short leap to tackle him to the sofa, landing a few good punches before he managed to block one and counter, grabbing her wrist and throwing her to the floor.

She lifted her leg to get in a kick to his face before rolling under the coffee table and quickly jumping upright, her hands in fists at the ready.

"You had no fucking right!" she yelled.

"And what!? Was I supposed to just keep working with you without knowing?! You knew about Harry, but I can't know about this?" he yelled back.

She felt as though she was in cardiac arrest, her heart was beating so fast.

She bent down and shoved the coffee table to the side, out of their way.

"That's fucking different and you fucking know it!"

She was _there_ during Harry's death. Eggsy wasn't there when Ana took innocent lives, when she watched her mirror self die. There was no comparison whatsoever, and the fact he was trying to make one made her even angrier.

At the look on her face, Eggsy surprisingly faltered, but she kept up her guard.

"Oh, shit, it's happenin' again," he muttered to himself.

"Got that right," she said right before attacking again.

She honestly didn't know if their fight lasted minutes or hours. She didn't even feel like it lasted any form of time. She was just so angry, each counter punch or kick she felt just drove her more.

They moved around the room, breaking lamps, and even a chair.

She would never forget the ending.

The two of them on their hands and knees, both bloodied and out of breath.

Eggsy turned his head towards her and she looked back.

"Don't reckon this is an 'I take it back' situation?"

She tilted her head and threw a punch to his throat in response.

He choked as he fell onto his back, letting out coughs along with deep breaths, his body limp.

She nodded to herself as she stood up, stumbling once before she found her footing, still out of breath.

She spat out some blood as she wiped at her mouth, taking in the room.

A tornado came through, it seemed. But it didn't bother her.

It was worth it, for what he did; invading her privacy like that.

She took a few deep breaths and looked towards the nearest window, a stupid idea forming.

She stumbled to the window, obviously pulling the drapes back to see the black SUV still there.

"What'ya doin?" Eggsy asked, his breath scratchy.

"Got a stupid idea," she coughed as she walked towards the front door. She heard Eggsy call her name but ignored it as she entered the front sunroom, stopping by the mirror near the door and taking a step back.

She hadn't realized or felt it, but she also received a beating.

There was still blood on her lips, which she wiped away, and she had a small cut on her forehead. She felt one of her cheeks throbbing, which she knew would result in a bruise - but it hadn't formed yet. Her hair and clothes were in dissarya, but left them alone, knowing it would add to the effect she wanted to give.

If she played dumb, it could help.

She took in a deep breath as she stared at herself in the mirror, licking away the last of the blood around her lips before opening the door with a force.

She closed it behind her, muffling the sounds of Eggsy calling out after her as she spotted the SUV and walked towards it, stomping the ground with purpose as she made her way over.

Immediately the car started, but she got to the front in time to stop the driver from getting away.

She slammed her hands on the hood.

"Are you happy now?! I just had a fight with the love of my life; my boyfriend thinks I'm fucking you, you sick bastard!" she screamed.

She noticed there were two men in the car - two men she (thankfully) didn't recognize to be part of Marsha's security detail. And she wanted to laugh at the looks on their faces.

"I mean I know I had a stalker, but this?!" she screamed again, raising her arms to throw her fists on the hood yet again. "This is too far! Just let me be!"

The car reversed quickly.

In dramatic fashion - honestly, she was having fun by now - she took a step forward and shook her fist in the air.

"That's what I thought! It's all good at a distance," she shouted as the car switched gears and turned away from her and then echoed the sound of screeching tires as it tore away, "But up close you can't take it!" she screamed after the car.

She watched the tail lights turn on the next street and drive away.

She let out a huff and reached into her pocket, hopeful but not surprised to see it was a cracked and broken mess. She shook out the glass screen and put the phone back in her pocket, to be destroyed correctly by the Kingsman.

She walked back towards her old house and faltered in her step when she saw Eggsy and Jeremy a few feet away from each-other, having a kerfuffle of their own.

"What the fuck is going on, is what I want to know."

"You don't even have a right to know. She's got nightmares 'cause of you!"

At that Jeremy took a step back.

Eggsy looked downright lethal as he took a step forward.

"I've got a feelin' as to why she has them, Jeremy."

"Enough!" she shouted, and both men startled while standing.

She pointed to Eggsy.

" _You_ , inside, NOW."

"But-"

"Now!"

Like a child he put his hands on his hips, but then acquiesced and went back inside. Leaving her to Jeremy.

She walked up the pathway and stopped a few feet away.

"Who the hell is that guy? Who the hell are _you_? Are you okay?"

"You don't get to ask me that."

He nodded, looking down.

"Anyone come to you, asking about us?" she asked.

He shook his head, not meeting her gaze.

"Jeremy," she snapped and he met her eyes.

"No, no one."

"Good. If anyone does?"

"You've been living here this whole time."

She nodded, but he continued.

"What about him? I mean you look bad, but jesus, he looks-"

She turned and raised an eyebrow at him. He took another step back.

"You could've done that, to me, even worse, on... on that day."

She tilted her head at him.

"Remember that, Jeremy."

He nodded profusely and she left, walking back towards her old house.

As soon as she entered the sun room, a wet washcloth was stuffed into her face.

She slapped Eggy's hands away as she walked through the destroyed living room to the kitchen, using the washcloth to wipe her face, neck, and arms before tossing it in the sink and opening the door to the fridge. She spotted an old unopened bottle of white wine, thankfully with a screw cap. She grabbed the bottle and opened it, taking a few gulps.

She exhaled and wiped her mouth, hesitated, and then took a few more gulps before putting the cap back on and slamming the bottle down on the counter.

Eggsy cleared his throat behind her.

She took a deep breath and turned around, meeting his gaze.

"I was _there_ for Harry's death. I had an _obligation_ to tell you, which _I fucking did_. Mind you, I didn't have to. And no," she said, raising her hand when she saw him open his mouth "this is not the time for your comments. I'm talking now, and you're gonna fucking listen."

He closed his mouth and leant against the counter, crossing his arms.

She took a deep breath.

"You weren't in the _world_ that day. Only in the compound. You didn't see, or experience what it was like. That... day when I fucking happened to have on noise cancelling headphones which saved my fucking life. I took lives of my own that day just to protect myself against _civilians_. Faces I never stop seeing. And then I steal a car and drive home as fast as I can to see if my sister is okay, only to make it in time to have her die in my arms."

She felt tears stream down her face, but ignored them as she stared Eggsy down. His face scrunched up as he took a step forward.

"So don't you ever try to make me feel guilty for not telling you. I lost my sister; I lost my other half; I lost myself that day. And honestly, she hasn't come back. And I'm pretty sure she never will. This is who I am, Eggsy. A half, not a whole."

She turned and grabbed the bottle of wine and took a few more gulps, leaving the cap off as she put the bottle back down.

"Have you ever been in love?" she asked, staring out the window above the sink into the small backyard covered in grass.

Eggsy choked at that, letting out a cough or two, but then cleared his throat before croaking out "Yeah."

"I'm assuming that first love ended badly," she said, still not looking at him.

There was a long beat of silence.

"No, it didn't," he finally replied.

She nodded.

"You remember that pain?"

"I do."

"Take that pain... and triple it. Quadruple it. Quantuple it. Multiply it by infinity. And then take that feeling, and keep it inside of you forever, whilst feeling some kind of emptiness."

"Ana," he started, and she held up a hand, thankful that he fell silent.

She turned and walked past him to the living room, stopping to sit crosslegged in front of the coffee table, strewn with the photos that were miraculously untouched.

She felt more than saw or heard him sit on the other side of the table.

She picked up one of the photos of just Natalia, standing in front of a canvas of what to outsiders would seem like a self portrait, but to only Ana was in fact a portrait of her.

She waited for a beat of silence before continuing.

"Now, every morning you wake up - no matter if you had a good or bad day before, there's always that split second of hopelessness and emptiness when you remember that your other half, the one you grew up with and loved, and _was_ , is gone."

She let out a shuddering breath, proud of herself for not crying.

More than a minute of silence passed.

She heard him take in a breath but it was interrupted by the doorbell.

"Answer it," she ordered. He stood up and disappeared for a moment. She heard muffled voices, and Eggsy came back in alone.

"They're here," she said softly.

Eggsy nodded.

"Told 'em to stay outside," he said softly.

She turned and raised an eyebrow at him.

He raised an eyebrow back and walked towards her, kneeling down next to her in a dangerous proximity.

They both sat in silence.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" he asked again, the first question that started it all.

She let out a laugh at that, but then shook her head.

"You know what? I knew I eventually would."

He looked almost skeptical, but she shook her head.

"The moment I took you to Harry's grave, I always knew I was going to tell you. Not just an 'eye for an eye' situation, but because a part of me _wanted_ to let you know."

His gaze flickered as he searched her face, but thankfully he stayed silent.

"I just didn't know _when_ ," she continued, "Maybe during an important mission? Maybe if we were caught and Marsha had found out everything so we would have a one up on her instead of the other way around. Maybe after another nightmare you would've woken me up from. Or maybe even right before we ended it, to let you know why it was so important to me that if I didn't get to kill Valentine himself, at least I could exact my revenge on the woman that started it all."

She took a deep breath and met his gaze.

"But the thing is, it was _my_ story to tell. It was _my_ life to explain. And you took that away from me."

"You are... you are unbelievable," he whispered, though the words didn't hold the usual feeling behind the usual phrase, "Jeremy is still here, taking care of the house. You don't want to kill him."

"It wasn't him that killed her," she whispered, fighting to keep her tears at bay but failing as she felt one escape her eye.

He nodded.

"It wasn't. And that's why we're gonna get Marsha. I swear to you, Ana. We'll get her."

She nodded and they stared at each-other for a beat, before she shook her head.

"I'm Lincoln to you. Nothing else. Not until _I say_ , understood?" she asked as she stood up.

Eggsy, still kneeling on the floor, holding a hand to his bloodied cheek, nodded.

"Good," she said, walking to the main front door but stopping before she opened it, "And if you ever utter my full name to me again, I'll break every bone in your good arm," she said before opening the door to the few Kingsman Techs and Adams waiting on the lawn.

Without a word the techs stormed through and she walked back to the living room, falling onto a chair still intact.

"You both look like shit," Adams said as a greeting.

"Cat came out of the wrong bag," Ana muttered before Eggsy could say anything.

Adams raised an eyebrow but nodded.

"Smart move, pulling the clueless card and calling them stalkers."

Ana shrugged.

"We can only hope it works. I packed two boxes, labeled with my serial number; would like them to be delivered to my loft."

Adams nodded, and then hesitated.

"Are you-"

"Nothing. Right now, I'm nothing, Adams. Ask _him_ if you want the gossip," Ana said, standing up again and walking out the door.

* * *

 _Painted by MSMR_

 _Quite a heavy one, eh? I had two versions for this, but felt an angry and angsty version would fit these two better. That maybe this was the fight to end all fights between them._


	18. Chapter 17: You're My Best Friend

**You're My Best Friend**

Ana was tapping her fingers on the table in an uneven and undriven tempo.

Washington cleared his throat and she stopped, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

He turned and met her gaze and she looked back to the table.

She felt like a kid in detention, and heard Washington sigh as though he was a teacher who'd had enough.

"What?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"I'm making it an order, Lincoln. What?"

"It seems we're obviously waiting for someone, or someone's, and I'm pretty sure I know who - but I thought I'd be here early for a slap on the wrist for what happened at the... safe house..." she faded off.

Washington raised an eyebrow.

"A slap on the wrist for beating up your partner for what seems to be the umpteenth time, you mean?"

"He's not my-"

"The sooner you accept Agent Galahad is your partner for the time being will not only help us all, but especially the two of you as a team. As to the situation that happened, I have no repercussions for it. Agent Galahad explained the situation."

Ana raised her eyebrows at that, surprised.

"And though I have added more mandatory sessions with Mrs. Beltran due to the fight, a part of me has to say I... understand."

Ana's mind reeled at that, and she opened her mouth to ask many more questions but was interrupted by Arthur and Eggsy coming in, slightly out of breath, Eggsy taking a seat across from her and Arthur standing next to Washington.

"Never mind," Ana said, and Washington's mouth twitched.

"Apologies, to the both of you," Arthur started, but Washington shook his head.

"No worries, now that we're all here, we can get down to it," Washington said, turning to look at Arthur, who nodded, looking solemn.

Ana spared a glance at Eggsy, who was also looking at her. She turned her head to their leaders, ignoring the feeling of his gaze. It had been at least a few days since they'd last seen each other - something of both of their doing - both still fragile from the fight, from Ana's words after. She still wasn't ready to face him with civility yet. She wasn't worried what he would say - but more of what _she_ would say, or do, to further damage their already fractured relationship.

And they had one. However indescribable, they had a connection of some kind. From being bested by each-other to working together, from Harry's grave to her nightmares, from physically fighting over a part of herself; normal relationships didn't carry such weight.

Not that what they did or even who they were was anything close to normal.

Washington and Arthur both drew a deep breath, but Arthur was the one to speak.

"We're putting a brief hold on the Marsha Valentine mission."

Both Ana and Eggsy exploded, jumping out of their seats.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" she exclaimed at the same time he yelled "You're jokin' right?"

Washington held up a hand and they both fell silent and sat back down.

"It seems that Marsha Valentine won't have need for your stylistic tendencies for a while - as she told you in an email herself - which I have need to mention, Lincoln, you omitted from your recent report," he said, giving her a pointed look, "Maybe if you had consulted with us before going on a rogue mission, we might've created a better cover; one that had more face time with the target."

Ana only raised an eyebrow. She wanted to acknowledge that the slow actions of her own Kingsman Branch were what led her to taking her the matter into her own hands, and that since then they'd learned more than ever before - and even had more man and woman power and Kingsman resources now that they'd connected with the UK branch but she sucked in her lips to keep her retort in.

"If it wasn't for Agent Lincoln, we wouldn't have the information on Marsha Valentine that we do now. Cause of her I'm here, we're all here, workin' together to bring her down. And now ya tellin' me we're puttin' a hold on that?" Eggsy asked.

" _Agent Galahad_ ," Arthur said tersely as Ana gaped at Eggsy. She'd never seen him act with such insubordination, ever.

They all stared at him, but he turned to her head to kook at him.

"I'm surprised you're not up in arms beside me, love."

She frowned at the nickname but shook her head, knowing it was just a British thing as she turned to her superiors.

"What does this mean?"

Washington paused, as Arthur stood still, staring at Eggsy, and then glancing at her.

"It means the both of you are open to accept any other mission that comes to hand. The Valentine mission is, as of now, no longer the primary directive, that is until something comes up."

"So it's all quiet on the Marsha front, is that it?" Ana asked. Eggsy gave a snort and she turned her head to see him cover his mouth, unsuccessfully hiding a smile. She felt fuzzy at that but grinned nonetheless.

"Interestingly put, Lincoln, but that's the gist," Arthur said.

"This might seem like a setback, but it could be a silver lining," Washington started, "As Agent Galahad stated, the two of you have made strides in the main mission; the bugs the both of you implanted have proved very helpful. Marsha Valentine's network is bigger than we thought – we've learned that from both of your successful missions – who knows what other missions could bring us more connections, bringing us even closer?"

Ana and Eggsy met gazes, and Eggsy was the first to shrug.

Ana couldn't help but frown.

She went rogue, risking her own life and lifelong career to bring Marsha Valentine to justice. And now she was being told to take a step back?

"Lincoln, not only do I need to say this due to your past history, but also due to the look on your face right now," Washington started and then paused, as though waiting for her to look at him.

Once she met his gaze, he continued.

"If there's even an inkling: a research of files, a background check, hell, I'll even consider a license plate check - if there is _any_ sign that you are ignoring direct orders and you are trying to start a mission of any sort that involves Marsha Valentine without my own approval… you will be removed from this agency. It has never been done before, but I can reckon you understand what that entails."

Ana visibly gulped, and nodded.

"Understood, sir."

What Washington said was true – no agent had been forcibly removed. And the only thing that was known were rumors; entered into witness protection to a small town, some even said you were to be killed, and, Ana's favorite, which she heard from a potential recruit in her Interview group, was that Kingsman injected a stronger version of the amnesia dart that would erase your memory for however many years, like the _Men In Black_ movies – and you'd find yourself at home, disoriented.

"Agents, you are dismissed," Arthur said.

Both she and Eggsy stood up, Eggsy thankfully leaving the room briskly followed by Arthur, but Ana stayed behind.

"Is there something you'd like to say, Agent?" Washington asked curtly.

She cleared her throat, knowing what she said could end either terribly or very well.

"Since things have quieted down, and it seems I'm still under 'probation' with no end in sight, I'd like my companion to join me, sir."

Arthur seemed confused and looked at Washington, who had a pensive look.

"It's been a while now, and I'm sure he misses me, just as much – if not even more – than I miss him."

"You are still under probationary leave-"

"I understand, sir. If you would allow it, I can take care of her here… I would be solely responsible."

"Of everything," Washington said.

"Of _everything_ , sir."

Washington hesitated, but then nodded.

"I will consider it, Lincoln. You'll know my answer soon."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate it."

* * *

A few days later, Ana was outside, watching the empty road. It had been a dull few days. It seemed Washington and Arthur were right to put a hold on the MV mission (what Ana had dubbed the Marsha mission), but Ana wouldn't acknowledge that anytime soon.

She'd avoided Eggsy expertly yet clumsily, sometimes meeting his gaze in a room before turning around to leave it, or seeing him down the hall and walking backward to not make any sudden movements. The first few times he even gave chase, calling her name and following her, but then he just stared at her as she walked away, staying silent. As though he knew she needed it; needed not to see him, needed more time to calm herself down after everything.

She'd had sessions with Mrs. Beltran every day since, sometimes even two sessions. And even though Mrs. Beltran knew that Ana wouldn't admit it out loud – they helped. A lot.

But now as she stood outside, she felt one thing and one thing only; excited.

Washington had agreed to her request.

Apollo was finally coming to her.

She heard footsteps on the dirt come up, and saw Roxy stand next to her.

"Expecting someone?" she asked.

Ana grinned.

"Yeah, you could say that."

Roxy nodded.

They stood in silence before Roxy cleared her throat.

"Is that what you've been waiting for?" Roxy asked raising her hand to point in the distance. Ana snapped her head and smiled when she saw a cab kicking up dust as it entered the grounds.

"Finally!" Ana cried out, leaving Roxy and starting a soft jog down the driveway, catching up to the car a couple yards away.

She jumped on the balls of her feet as the cab finally slowed down. She didn't wait for the driver, throwing the door open and dropping to sit on the ground as Apollo jumped out, his low, guttural barks echoing across the grounds as he jumped onto Ana, his body wiggling as his short stub of a tail wagged out of control.

Ana hugged him tight, welcoming the slobbery kisses and snorts before she pulled back and stood up, smiling and thanking the cab driver as he handed over a duffel bag. She hoisted it over her shoulder as she walked back towards Roxy, Apollo at her heels, the cab driving off again.

Ana frowned as they approached, noticing Roxy. Roxy stood stock still, her mouth open, curled up at the corners; but her eyes were wide, as though disbelieving.

They finally reached her and Apollo let out another deep bark at the new human.

Roxy bent her head down to watch him, still unmoving.

"Roxy, this is Apollo. Apollo, this is Roxy, try not to drool," she said hopelessly. With his scrunched up face and a tongue that most of the time hung out the side of his mouth, drooling was an occupational hazard.

Apollo snorted as he sniffed around Roxy, nudging his back side against her legs before coming back to her, snorting and letting out another deep bark. Ana shrugged as she reached down and de-clipped the leash. Instead of running off, Apollo just walked around, staying close but doing his doggy duties of checking the surrounding area, lifting his leg here and there to mark his territory.

Roxy still looked stunned, which had Ana worried.

"Roxy? You're not allergic or anything? I thought it was a Kingsman staple…. You're okay with dogs, right?" she asked.

As though her question had broken open a damn, Roxy let out a loud laugh, which had Ana jumping back and Apollo barking in surprise.

Roxy just kept on laughing, though, fading away but then looking at Apollo, then at Ana, and Apollo again before another round of laughter erupted.

Ana frowned.

So yeah, some might call Apollo funny looking even though he had a vicious face with the heart of a two-year-old. He had more skin than fat which resulted in small rolls around his body. He was mostly white, with a few spots of brown fur splattered with black dots, one over his left eye, which Ana called his eye patch.

Apollo had gotten his name the first night he was hers. In the main room the recruits slept in, Apollo had gotten into a fight with a German Shepard puppy, one twice his size – yet it was him that ended up on top, the other dog on his back whimpering.

Ana gave Roxy time to calm down and opened her mouth to say something but then Roxy looked down at Apollo and started laughing yet again.

Ana frowned, taking a step forward, Apollo coming to her side, growling as he sensed Ana's unease.

"Okay, that's enough!" Ana snapped, one of her hands curling into a fist. She never imagined fighting Roxy unless during training (something she was still meaning to ask but never got around to), but at that moment, she was ready.

Roxy held up a hand, shaking her head as she finally calmed down.

"I'm… ohhh…. I'm sorry, Ana," she said, still recovering from her laughing fit.

Ana only raised an eyebrow.

"It's just… oh, can I walk with you?" she said, still catching her breath as she knelt down, holding her hand out to Apollo. He let out a huff and a small snort as he walked forward, sniffing Roxy's hand but then letting her pet him. She smiled, scratching the top of his head before she stood up.

"Can I walk with you?" she repeated, bringing out her cell phone.

Ana raised an eyebrow but shrugged.

She let out a low whistle and Apollo came to her side again, almost leaning against her leg as they walked into headquarters, Roxy typing away quickly on her phone.

Ana looked down at Apollo, raising an eyebrow.

She was still irked about how Roxy thought this all to be so funny. As though her last semblance of family, the one thing that kept her sane after losing Nat, was some sort of joke. But she knew that was her own anxiety talking; that there had to be a _reason_ Roxy was so... amused by Apollo.

As per Kingsman tradition, during the 'interview', they were to chose a puppy.

And as soon as she and the others formed a line in front of the cages, she'd met the gaze of a small puppy made of wrinkles, and it was kismet. She was even ready to fight the others for him but whenever one of her competition reached for his cage he let out a deep growl. And when it was just the two of them left he let out a whine and his tiny body shook with the wag of his tail as she approached his cage; that was all she needed. He was hers.

"This is too good," Roxy said, her voice still recovering from her laughing. Ana only frowned as they entered the main hall.

"I don't know what you're-" she started, her voice tense, but she stopped when Apollo let out a deep bark, staying next to her but on his guard. She followed Apollo's line of sight to see Eggsy walking down the hall, the grin on his face at the sight of her and Roxy falling as he looked down at Apollo.

His face then turned disbelieving, almost comically, his footsteps slowing as Apollo continued to bark.

Roxy started laughing again.

However Eggsy was still staring at Apollo, that stupid look on his face.

Ana shook her head, letting out a low whistle. Apollo immediately stopped barking and sat down but let out a small, almost inaudible growl.

She let out another whistle and Apollo quieted with a small whine, looking up at her. She bent over and scratched behind his ear.

"Good boy," she muttered before standing up straight, looking at Roxy who was almost bent over she was laughing so hard, and then to Eggsy who was still looking at Apollo, and then at her, then back to Apollo.

She opened her mouth to ask what the fuck was going on, but Eggsy beat her to the chase.

"A _bulldog?!_ " he cried out incredulously.

She raised an eyebrow, looking down at Appollo, staring back up at her with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

"Well yeah, that's the breed…" she said, looking back up at him. Roxy had just started to calm down from her laughing fit.

"What breeds did you guys get? I'd love to see some pictures," she said smiling, still confused, but brushing it off.

Roxy let out a few ending laughs but nodded.

"Yeah, it's universal Kingsman staple I believe. I've got a poodle, Athena is her name, and Eggsy's got…" she faded off, and they both looked over to him.

He was still frowning at Apollo, which had her tensing up again.

"A pug," he said, a smile breaking his frown as he shook his head, "named him JB."

"Jack Bauer?"

Eggsy blinked, moving his gaze to look at her in surprise.

"Yeah."

"Nice. But I'm still confused as to why Roxy is dying over here."

Eggsy winced and raised a hand to scratch the back of his neck.

"Yeah, thing is I wasn't very… attuned to dogs before, and I uh, I picked JB thinking he was," Eggsy knelt down and Apollo let out a soft growl, circling Eggsy twice before deeming him fit for a pet as he sat down within reach. Eggsy smiled as he pet Apollo, scratching in the right place to make Apollo's left leg kick out before he looked up and met Ana's gaze.

"I thought JB was a bulldog."

Ana blinked, and then opened and closed her mouth.

"Are you telling me you mistook a _pug_ for a _bulldog_?"

Eggsy frowned and stood up straight.

"I mean come on, man, pugs might have the same face, but the coloring is different, bulldogs have more skin…" Ana said and Roxy let out another laugh but then covered her mouth.

"It was a happy mistake, alright!?"

"I won't know until I see pictures…"

Eggsy faltered but then reached into his pocket and brought out his phone, taking a moment as his finger moved across the screen… he then stopped and turned his phone towards her. A picture of a stout little pug on a bed was shown, and Ana couldn't help but ket out an 'Awww!'

"It's just their little faces! Oh wow, he's a looker."

Eggsy looked chagrined.

Apollo barked and Ana smiled.

"Okay okay, let's get situated and then we'll take a jog, alright?"

"Who's been looking after him?"

"Well usually Kingsman has someone to take care of the dogs when we're away on missions, but when I was… forced to stay here, I decided to hire my own sitter. He loves attention and people, I didn't want him sitting around all day, alone except for feeding time."

Apollo let out another bark.

"Well, the man has spoken, we're gonna wind down, I'll see you guys later," she said, walking away, Apollo following.

"Do you know the difference now?" she heard Roxy say.

"We were all sleep deprived when I chose JB!"

"Excuses, excuses."

* * *

She had a good jog around the headquarters, Apollo having a blast as he ran around and sniffed the grass, marked the territory as his, and even found a squirrel or two to chase before finally accepting defeat when they escaped up a tree.

She was lying in the grass, eyes closed against the warm sun when she heard a bark – different from Apollo's.

She sat up to see Dylan walking and Ellie running towards her. She smiled as the chocolate lab jumped on her, giving her kisses. Apollo was immediately there, and the two dogs ran away to play with each other; like old friends seeing each other again.

Dylan sat next to her, grunting.

"Thought Apollo could see a few more friendly faces."

"Thanks," she said with a smile.

"You know I could've taken him in."

"I do know, and thank you, but he can be a lot. I also didn't want him alone for so long. Even you've got missions too."

Dylan nodded.

"Rox told me of the introduction, it's quite a story."

Ana grinned at that.

"Happy mistake, he said. And I can't blame him, JB is a looker."

Dylan gave her a weird look, but cleared his throat to change to subject.

"You seem to be taking the Marsha Valentine hiatus well," he started.

She shrugged and put her hands behind her, arms taught, to bask in the sun.

"Pure will, really. And I've been good at acting happy in the past, it's helping even more now."

"But won't it be good, to take a break? After V-Day, after going back to real bullets, after Eggsy finding out about Natalia… it could be a good chance to take a breather."

She frowned.

"She's still out there, Dylan. Who knows what she's planning, and she definitely planning something. Her own beliefs are now driven even harder by the death and public damnation of her own son. She's not taking a breather. Why should I?"

"Because if you don't you'll be fired? It'll be better for your mental health? I dunno, take a card, any card."

She sighed and let her arms drop, falling back onto the grass.

"If you bring this up in any future conversations I will kill you – but I kind of agree. It's been… a lot."

Dylan followed, laying down next to her. Apollo and Claire came over and lay down with them, mouths open and tongues out as they rested.

"I thought it was gonna work."

"I know."

"I thought I was going to gain her trust quickly, find out what she was doing, and smile down at her before I either killed her or arrested her. Isn't that messed up? My endgame wasn't even decided yet."

"You would've been willing to kill her?"

"Yeah. I still think about it."

"You said it yourself with Valentine… people didn't get closure with his death. The same would've been for Marsha."

She took a deep breath, lifting her hand and feeling around before she found Apollo's coat, scratching it and petting it, smiling softly as he licked her hand once, for comfort.

"I was only thinking about my own revenge in the moment."

"When did it change?"

She closed her eyes.

 _She was out of breath, aiming her tranq gun at a breathless and equally mussed Eggsy after their first fight in the hallway._

" _Jesus, Galahad, she's one of us!_ " _Roxy shouted, trying to dissuade the situation._

Who'd've known that moment would've brought her here?

"In the hallway."

"What hallway?"

"The night in New York, when I came across Roxy and Eggsy. Roxy even said that we were part of the same team, but I just acted on instinct to get away. And then after seeing them again, knowing that we were going to be working together to take her down…"

"That's when killing her became a question, not a certainty."

"Yeah," she said on a deep breath.

"Well, now that we have that settled, you aren't going rogue again, right?" he asked pensively.

"No," she said on a sigh, more from tiredness than anything, "I'm gonna follow orders, even if it kills me."

" _Jesus Christ_ , don't say that!" Dylan shouted.

She smirked and glanced his way.

"Don't _do_ that, Ana."

She shrugged.

"Can't help it."

* * *

Ana was walking towards her room - she'd stopped calling it her 'cell' by now. Now that Apollo was with her, she didn't hold such resentment staying at Headquarters now, just like she had done as a recruit. In fact, she could now see the benefits of her probation; she was at the head of the action. She could travel down to the tech branch and ask for updates, or take a few floors up and train in combat with any weapon she chose, or walk to the gun range and catch up on her training with real bullets.

She was grinning to herself when Apollo let out a soft 'woof' and she stopped, looking up and meeting Eggy's gaze across the hall.

She stopped, her feet shifting to the balls and toes, ready to run.

"Don't you dare run, I'm coming after ya this time," Eggsy called across the hall.

She raised an eyebrow, unsure if he could see her. But nonetheless, she felt like challenging him, just like old times, and slowly turned on the balls of her feet.

She felt him running, the thumps of his footsteps radiating on the floor. She stopped and turned her head to watch him coming straight at her. Apollo let out a loud bark and ran forward, but Eggsy jumped over him, still coming towards her.

She braced herself for impact but instead of tackling her, he slowed enough and grabbed her arms, turning her towards the wall and caging her in.

"You ket me catch you," he said almost disbelievingly.

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Doesn't your ankle hurt?" she asked, looking down at Apollo, whose jaws were clamped around Eggsy's foot.

He looked down and laughed. Ana laughed as well, and Apollo opened his jaw and stepped back, letting out a single bark.

Ana snapped her fingers and Apollo fell quiet, sitting down.

"Why'd you keep on runnin'?"

She tilted her head.

"I thought you knew me by now."

He frowned for a second, before leaning his head in closer, making her catch her breath.

"I do know you... probably more than the other agents do, except for Dylan. That's why I'm stuck scratchin' my head as to why you keep runnin'."

She kept his gaze, watching as it slowly hit him.

"That's why, then?" he asked, frowning and letting her go as he took a step back. "Because I know you more now? I know about..." he faded off, his body turning still as though bracing for another fight.

But she didn't start one. She only shrugged.

"I'm messed up, what can I say?"

"Don't do that, Linc."

She stopped, and frowned.

"You're not messed up," he continued, "You're still grieving."

"You sound like Mrs. Beltran."

"She's smart, and has a lot of good points. Even helped me realize that I had my own reservations towards the agency when I showed defiance to Arthur while I was defending you."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. He only grinned.

"What, ya thought I could turn to only Rox after you led me to Harry's grave?"

She could only shrug her shoulders, she didn't know what else to do.

"Stop runnin' from me, Linc. If you let me or if you don't let me, I'll always catch you. You get me?" he asked softly, almost a whisper.

Her whole body shivered, but she nodded.

He searched her eyes before nodding and taking a step back, his warmth leaving her.

"Good. I'll see ya around, Linc. Whether you like it or not."

* * *

 _You're My Best Friend by Queen_

 _*I had to make Apollo a bulldog - I couldn't help it!_


End file.
